


Brooklyn Baby

by msbutterfingers



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Real World, CEO Kylo Ren, Comedy, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Hipsters, Modern AU, New York City, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Slow Burn, Stoner Rey, Uptight Loves Wild
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-21 20:07:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 57,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14292462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msbutterfingers/pseuds/msbutterfingers
Summary: Ben had told himself that the less he knew about her, the better. He knew just by looking at Rey that she’d probably ruin his life.And that he’d let her.That gaze of hers had been trouble, he’d known that from the first moment they’d met. But now he was certain the rest of her was trouble, too. And he was screwed. Ben Solo was absolutely, positively, one-million percent screwed.(Rated for language, drug use, and eventual sexual content.)





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Haaaaaaa.....boy. What can I say, this fic wasn't supposed to happen, and then suddenly it did! I....couldn't help myself. I just had to write this. Why am I such a sucker for pairings like this?! Reylo owns my soul now. Send help immediately.
> 
> This is my first SW fic. It initially started out as a oneshot but now it'll be more like a story with parts instead of set chapters. I just got the idea of these kids in a real life New York setting coupled with the Lana Del Rey song of the same name, and had to get it out of my head! It might be around 7 parts total, but that could definitely change, since I have no self control! HAH. I'm positive that this idea isn't terribly original, but it called to me anyway.
> 
> I'm also working on writing /several/ different projects at the moment, so my apologies if updates for this are spotty.
> 
> All right, let's start this thing. Enjoy!

_**brooklyn baby** _

 

 

 

 

 

“I can’t believe that worked,” Finn said, pacing quickly through the throng of rich people after his nutjob best friends Rey and Poe, who were slightly ahead of them, laughing uproariously at their plan succeeding. He turned to his girlfriend in part disbelief, part excitement, who was holding tightly onto his arm. “Can you believe that worked? I can’t believe that worked. We’re in! They actually let us in!!”

Rose, walking faster to match his pace with her short legs, rolled her eyes. “Of course they did. Only Poe would have the balls and the unabashed ego to actually pull that off.” Wary, she looked at their surroundings, at the fancy Manhattan private party that they’d managed to crash. “But do we have to stay here for long? The stench of pretentiousness in here is gonna give me a headache.”

“Oh, come on, Rose. Live a little.” Rey had stopped walking side-by-side with Poe and turned around, leveling a triumphant grin at all of her friends. Her outfit, an ultra casual bohemian get up with cutoff short shorts, a long, floor-brushing loose shawl with a paisley pattern on it, and grungy, dusty lace-up boots didn’t exactly blend with the black-and-white dress code of the soiree.

Then again, none of them would blend in with what they had been wearing on their trek to uptown earlier—particularly Rose’s red beanie on her head, and Poe’s leather racing jacket with his own last name, ‘DAMERON’ on the back.

“Yeah, be a little grateful, would you?” Poe piped in, grinning widely. “If it weren’t for my famous name, none of you would’ve gotten in here in the first place. So, you’re welcome.” His eyebrows lifted.

“Famous?” Finn echoed with a snort. “Famous for what? Crashing your race car a million times and miraculously not dying?”

“Hey now,” Poe replied defensively, “I win as much as I crash. No risk, no reward. And the reward is fame. And money. And doing favors for a bunch of ungrateful moochers.” Rey elbowed him in the side as Finn groaned and Rose booed. Poe laughed, dodging Rey’s elbow when she came in for a second blow. “Ah, okay! Sorry, sorry! Friends! Ungrateful _friends_.”

“That’s not better,” Finn said.

“Well, if you’ll all excuse me,” Poe said, side-stepping Finn’s comment and smoothing his hair back with both hands. “I’ve got some lady-hunting to do.”

Rose cringed. “Ew, don’t say it like that.”

“Too late, I already did.” Poe gave his friends a wink, then spun on his heel, disappearing into the crowd to find his latest amorous conquest.

Sighing good naturedly and shaking her head, Rey stepped closer to Finn and Rose, a mischievous glint appearing in her eye. “You know what _I’m_ gonna do here?”

The both of them frowned, not catching her meaning. Then, with a gasp of realization, Rose said, “Oh God, Rey. You wouldn’t.”

Rey, after digging into her dingy leather satchel, produced a zip-lock bag of brownies. Pot brownies. She held them up in front of her beaming face. “Hell yeah, I would,” she said. She wiggled the bag at Finn. “You want one?”

Finn struggled between the temptation Rey waggled in front of him and the way Rose shook her head at him with a glare of death. He smiled pleadingly at his girlfriend. “Just a bite?”

Sighing heavily and throwing her head back, shutting her eyes, Rose relented. “Fine. But you’re gonna regret this. Remember the last time you ate one of Rey’s edibles? You were standing on the roof of our apartment building, screaming, ‘I’m alive!! I’m alive!!’ until the cops got called.”

Finn eagerly took a brownie out of the bag that Rey held out in front of him. “I know, I know. It won’t be like that this time. I promise. Just one bite!” To demonstrate his promise, Finn held up the brownie, took one, medium sized bite, then made a show of putting the rest of the brownie back in the bag. He finished chewing as Rose and Rey watched, then swallowed and folded his arms with pride. “See? Moderation. It’s all good. I’m good.”

Rey and Rose nodded, the latter unconvinced. Rey leaned closer to Rose, whispering, “You’re going to watch him, right?”

“Oh, trust me,” Rose said, staring at her boyfriend with adoring exasperation, “I won’t let him out of my sight.”

Walking backwards, and reaching a hand into the bag to grab the rest of Finn’s brownie, Rey saluted and said to the both of them, “Yeah, have fun with that. Catch you later!” She spun around, flowing shawl swirling after her as she popped the small bit of brownie into her mouth and skipped away, chewing happily and looking for some mischief to get into.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  
“What about you, Ben? Ben?”

Ben Solo snapped out of his reverie, staring out at the Manhattan city lights and the Empire State Building out of the nearby window as he had hundreds of times before during these parties. “What was that?” He asked.

His colleague, Armitage Hux, grinned stiffly. As usual, there was hostile contempt just beneath that smile. “I said, Mr. Solo, I think that the predictions for the next quarter are extremely promising for the company. What about you?” He gripped the scotch on the rocks in his hand a little tighter than needed.

“Yes, of course,” Ben said. “Very promising. But we shouldn’t let that affect our hard work. We need to remind the employees that there’ll be no slacking. Schedule a company meeting Monday morning, would you?”

Hux paused, his expression dampening. Then, with the slightest bit of hesitance to his tone, he asked, “Sir, isn’t Monday a holiday? The workers are supposed to have that day off.”

Ben stared at Hux, his gaze becoming cold. Hux was questioning his authority once again. This was constant. “Excuse me, Hux, but I don’t believe the other companies in the industry take a day off. Would you agree with that assessment?”

“Yes sir, I agree, but—”

“Then would you perhaps agree that taking a day off when it isn’t needed would be a detriment to the progress we’ve made in just a few years?”

“Yes, sir. But the law states—”

“What does the law have to do with my company?” Ben’s voice rose slightly. “Does some flimsy, meaningless law have more authority under my company than me, as CEO?”

The room had grown quiet. Everyone had stilled and silenced to witness the sight of the party host getting into yet another argument with his head employee and employee supervisor. In the long, loaded pause, in which Ben continued to stare at Hux nose-to-nose with a cold gaze in a steely, impassive face, Hux swallowed hard, and the ice cubes rattled inside of his glass in his shaking grasp.

“No, sir,” Hux finally answered, voice uneven. “It doesn’t.”

Ben lifted his chin, his poker face unchanging even in his quiet victory. One day Hux would learn not to cross him. “Schedule the meeting. Mandatory. Bright and early. Fire anyone who doesn’t attend.” With that, Ben walked away, leaving the room with shoulders squared, already knowing without sparing another glance that Hux was scowling daggers into his retreating back.

He ignored the whispers as he continued on through the party venue, Chartreuse Penthouse. He also ignored the stares. He was used to them. Rather, he enjoyed them. They fed him, empowered him. Of course, there was the unfortunate side effect of throwing these events regularly and being the center of attention—the forced socializing.

Yes, he, Ben Solo, CEO of Kylo Enterprises, hated parties.

Yes, he knew that putting on airs was part of his lifestyle. He had been putting on airs since he was a kid, since he was forced to go to his grandmother Padme’s bi-annual garden parties and interact with old, rich strangers in an itchy, too-tight bow tie and too-long coattails. He knew how to force a laugh that sounded believable at stilted, corny, un-funny jokes. He knew exactly how to shake their hands—firm, forceful, but not too scary. He’d had his introduction sentence well rehearsed for ages, and his arsenal of strategic conversational topics perfected.

He had played this song and dance for as long as he could remember. He was born into money, and now he had his own money.

And now, to maintain that money with this company he built up from the ground, inspired by his grandfather Anakin’s company before him, he had to continue this song and dance. Throw big, fancy parties mostly meant to maintain his network of important people, which helped maintain the foundation of his very company.

Investors, mostly. But also promoters, and sponsors. And caterers. Not to mention using it as a convenient means to maintain his image in the public eye via his public relations team. He’d already had several ‘attitude’ controversies in the past, where he had flown off the handle with some paparazzi rats present. It had taken this long to repair the damage his reputation had endured, and now it was mostly neutral instead of positive.

Ben Solo had multiple more over the top parties to throw, and multiple more figurative babies to kiss. Only then would he have any hope of Kylo Enterprises being at the top.

Then he would have everything that he wanted.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  
Rey had _never_ seen a party that was so over the top.

Never. Not even that time in high school that she had crashed the big end-of-the-year party being thrown by one of the popular girls. And that party had a chocolate fountain, cocktail shrimp, sparklers, and an ice sculpture.

This party had _multiple_ ice sculptures—she was starting to feel high, but sure was pretty sure she had correctly counted 30 of them. It also had 3 open bars, one for each floor that the party took place in—the main floor, the loft, and the rooftop. Each floor had different buffet tables: the main floor of the party had a Korean BBQ buffet table, the rooftop had a Mediterranean buffet and a dessert buffet with fancy desserts from countries around the world, and the loft had a surf and turf buffet with gourmet crab legs, lobster tails, and a custom steak station where party goers could ask the gourmet chef to make their steak just as they like. Rey made a mental note to return to that particular buffet when her munchies inevitably kicked in.

In the venue, there was a floor-to-ceiling fish tank, full of fish of all colors and sizes. On the main floor there were performers of different kinds that seemingly changed every hour—from a band, to a high profile DJ, to dancers from the New York Ballet. There were also tons of celebrities, and Rey barely resisted the urge to ask for their autographs.

This was not just a party. This was freakin’ Disneyland. And just by being there and absorbing it all, Rey was having the time of her life.

She had decided to stop at the loft open bar for a glass of bubbly, and one glass turned to three as she continued snacking on her brownie on her bar stool.

“I’m cutting you off,” the bartender told her as she ordered her fourth plume.

“What?” Rey laughed in disbelief, throwing herself onto the bar with outstretched arms. “Come on, man. Don’t be like that. We’re best friends, you and me. Just one more! For your best friend!” She folded her hands together in a pleading gesture.

“We’re not best friends,” the woman told her, though she was barely restraining a grin. “Go eat something else besides that brownie you were eating earlier and sober up, then maybe I’ll give you that fourth glass.”

“All right, all right.” Rey sighed, grabbed her bag of brownies off the bar, and slid off her barstool, pointing at the bartender with a wink. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

She stumbled away, making her way around the corner from the open bar—then spotted a waiter carrying glasses of expensive-looking red wine near the gourmet steak station. Rey made a beeline for him and picked up one of the glasses from his tray. “Thanks!” she said, hurrying away from him before he could stop her.

As soon as she was a good distance away from him, glancing behind her to make sure no one had followed her to confiscate the glass, she grinned lasciviously. “Hah!” She tipped the glass and took a sip. Super dry, so dry it almost hurt to swallow. It was definitely expensive. She closed her eyes as she swallowed, savoring.

While she savored the warm burn of the wine, she realized that her edible was definitely kicking in now, and that she was hungry. And the heavenly scent of searing steaks was calling her name.

Abruptly, Rey spun to head back toward the steak station—then proceeded to slam hard into a tall, wide body.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  
Ben hardly had time to register the girl abruptly turning around in front of him before she ran straight into him, her expensive glass of Cabernet Sauvignon splashing _all_ over him.

 _All over_ his expensive, sponsored, _white_ clothes. Head to toe. Obliterated.

The both of them froze in shock, then registered what happened a few seconds too late. Ben stared down at himself in abject horror and low simmering rage. The girl stared at his face, then at his clothes, then covered her mouth with her free hand.

“Oh my _God_ ,” she said, slowly shifting into panic mode. “Oh, no, no, _no_.”

Ben said nothing, just heaved a long sigh. His eyes shut slowly, painfully.

“Hang on! Wait right there!” She set her now completely empty wine glass down on the hardwood floor. Which was foolish, because it would inevitably get kicked or stepped on. She turned and jogged toward the buffet tables, and Ben, still in shock, remained where he was, hands held up away from his body where the giant burgundy splotch along the front of his clothes drew both gazes of sympathy and barely-disguised amusement.

The girl returned a few moments later, her arms full of red cloth napkins. Frantic, she held several in each hand and started rubbing the wine stain with both hands. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” She began scrubbing harder, not seeming to care that she did not know the individual she was vigorously touching. “Your clothes are so—so fancy and expensive. God, it’s not working. _No_. Look what I did!” Suddenly she stopped. “Shit, I said shit to a stranger. I don’t even know you. Oh shit, I just said it again!!” Her scrubbing resumed. “God, sorry! I’m sorry!”

Ben, finally coming down from his horror and anger induced frozen state, finally managed to open his eyes again and say something to put an end to this deeply humiliating moment. “You’re making it worse.” His voice was calm. Deceivingly so. “Stop.”

The girl continued to scrub, frowning up at him. “Just wait. I think it’s starting to budge—maybe just a little more—”

“It’s red wine,” interrupted Ben impatiently. “It’s not coming out. Red wine stains don’t come out. Don’t you know that?” This girl, with her off-dress-code hippy-dippy outfit, glinting nose stud, bloodshot eyes and un-distinguished personality had clearly not been invited. Ben had never seen her before. He would have remembered seeing her before.

She sighed, looking both guilty and irritated. “Look, I’m trying to help. Just let me help. Okay? You must’ve paid a fortune for this, to come to this pretentious, ridiculous party.”

She was definitely not invited, Ben decided. Because she clearly didn’t know who he was. She was possibly one of the only people in New York City who didn’t know who he was.

She continued, “Now I’ve ruined it for you. I ruined your good time. And _my_ good time.” Finally, she stopped scrubbing at the stain. Just as he’d said, it hadn’t made any difference. One of her hands flew up to cradle her forehead. “God. I can’t even think straight right now. My mind is racing. Sorry, I’m stoned. I think I ate too much brownie.”

“You don’t say.” Ben had thought it fairly obvious that she was a pot head. Her clothing had practically screamed it.

“I also might be drunk,” she said.

“ _Might_ be?”

Ben didn’t know whether it was the foolish but admittedly endearing way she’d valiantly tried to rescue his doomed Armani, or if he were just taking pity on this confused stoned drunk girl, or if he was hyper-aware of all of the eyes on the two of them, but what he _did_ know was that he needed to clean this up. And fast. He sighed again, looking down at her. She was staring, in wide-eyed awe, at their surroundings. At least she seemed harmless. “What’s your name?” He asked her.

Her attention snapping back to him, wary, she said, “Rey.”

He frowned slightly. Peculiar name. It fit her perfectly. “Rey,” he said, shifting his weight and gesturing her to follow. “Come with me.”

Rey squinted at him, suspicious. “Why?”

“You’re drunk and stoned. I’m not leaving you by yourself. Come on.” Ben took a step away. She made no move to follow.

Stubborn, Rey folded her arms and shook her head. “I’m not by myself. My friends are here with me.”

“Really?” Ben lifted an eyebrow. “Where are they, then?”

She whipped around, searching the crowd around them. Then she turned the other way, standing up on tip-toes and searching more. Coming up empty, she slowly turned back to Ben, shrugging a shoulder. “They’re just…not on this floor. But they _are_ here, you know. And if anything happened to me, they’d come looking for you. And one of them is Poe Dameron, _the_ renowned race car driver Poe Dameron, and he would _destroy_ you. On social media.”

Taken aback, Ben couldn’t help it. He cracked a dry scoff. This girl was friends with a professional racer? He hadn’t seen that coming, that was for sure. He thought she’d have been friends with other shady-looking characters, like ones that lurk in vans and stink up music festivals. “You can take it easy,” he told her. “I just want to look out for you, make sure no one takes advantage of you in your current state.”

Rey narrowed her eyes at him. “You can save your attempts at being a ‘gentleman’, or whatever. I don’t need to be _watched_ , like some pet or something. You think this is the first time I’ve done this?” She laughed, like such a thought was hilarious. “And how do I know you wouldn’t try to take advantage of me? I mean, I don’t even know your name.”

“Ben.” He extended his hand. “Ben Solo.”

His straightforward answer seemed to catch Rey off guard, and after glancing down at his hand, hesitant, she took his hand, shaking it.

He released her hand. “And for the record, I know you don’t need to be watched. I thought you could use some company, is all. As I get rid of this stain and try to save face.” Ben wasn’t sure about that first part, but he’d meant the second part, mostly. Except maybe he also could use someone to talk to. And he was getting exhausted from putting on his CEO clown-dance for everyone else at this party—it would be a relief to get a break for a short while.

At this, Rey softened. “I really am sorry about your clothes.” She sighed, then she followed him as he began to leave, knowing that she was behind him. “At least let me help pay for a replacement. How much were those?”

Ben, gaze-trained ahead of them, trying his best to ignore the silent gawks and jeers of everyone they passed by, said point-blank, “You couldn’t afford it.” Instantly regretting how this sounded, he rushed to add, “They’re super expensive. I couldn’t ask you to pay for even half. It…wouldn’t feel right.” He glanced down at her dusty, worn boots, looking like they’d been worn perhaps everyday for years, and knew that what he’d said hadn’t been a lie.

“But I feel so bad,” she replied.

He cast a glance down toward her over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

Rey really didn’t know who he was. She thought he was just…a normal person. Not the CEO of Kylo Ent., one of the youngest CEOs in the world. Just a guy named Ben, who she’d spilled wine all over. She was sassy and sarcastic towards him, and not kissing his ass. She’d even wanted to reimburse him for his ruined clothes. Like an equal. This had never happened to Ben before.

It was strange. And not entirely unpleasant. And enthralling, if he were being honest with himself.

He wished he could maintain this strange experience for just a bit longer. But he knew that wouldn’t be possible. There were too many people at this party that knew who he was— _everyone_. Everyone except for her. She would find out eventually. It was best not to hide his identity.

But maybe he wouldn’t give it up so quickly, either. For the sake of this interesting experiment.

“So where are we going, anyway?” Rey asked, still taking in everything around them with a look of barely restrained awe. She was really happy to be there. At least Ben knew the tediousness of planning this party with his party planner hadn’t been a waste. “You aren’t going to kidnap me, are you?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He continued walking until they reached an elevator, and he pressed the button to hail it to their floor.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
Ben was interesting, Rey thought as they stood in the elevator. Even compared to how interesting this party was, he was interesting. She couldn’t make heads or tails of him.

He was tall, and wide—a huge human being, truly—but really young looking in the face. His facial expression was dark, and cold, but young. His clothes were expensive and crisp, and clean before she’d gone and ruined them. He wore white head-to-toe, and while it was obvious that black and white was the dress code of this party, his all-white clothes made him look…important, somehow. They made _him_ look expensive, though she was sure he was just another party guest like anyone else there.

He had long tangled dark hair pulled away from his long face in an elastic, but it didn’t make him look douchey. It made him look even more distinguished—rare for the guy-bun. She didn’t know _how_ he pulled that off, but he did. He really, really did.

When he looked at her, it was like he was studying her. Almost like he could see straight into her mind. It wasn’t unwelcome, but something about it made Rey…nervous, was it? She didn’t know if that was quite the right word for it. Good nervous or bad nervous, she couldn’t quite tell. But it wasn’t enough to drive her away either.

And when he’d shaken her hand earlier, she’d thought that his handshake was overly firm. Almost showy. It was the handshake of someone who cared about what people thought of him.

When the elevator opened on the third floor, Ben immediately stepped out, and Rey had to rush to catch up with his long strides.

Just as she was about to ask him why they were going out to the roof portion of the party, he made a sharp left turn, not walking out through the door to the roof at all. Instead, he opened another inconspicuous door on the wall and glanced back at her. “Be right back,” he told her, then entered the mysterious room and shut the door behind him.

Rey was feeling weirder and weirder about this. Where the hell did he go? Was that the bathroom? And if it was, why did he want her to follow him here?

As she waited, though she wasn’t sure why she was at this point, she glanced out the large door that lead to the roof. After just a few seconds of looking through it, she had already caught sight of Poe sitting on one of the modern, sleek outdoor couches, surrounded by five girls all equally thrilled to be in his presence. Rey rolled her eyes and shook her head, though she couldn’t help but smile.

Suddenly, the mysterious door opened back up, and Ben reappeared—wearing a completely new set of clothes.

Rey blinked. She was stoned, for sure, and bewildered by everything at this party because of her current state, but she was almost positive she wasn’t high enough to hallucinate the new clothes. She pointed at what he was wearing now, a simple black long-sleeved shirt, black tie and black pants. “Where’d you get those new clothes?”

Without missing a beat, Ben said with a straight face, “What new clothes?”

She floundered for a moment, stuttering, before she realized that he’d been joking. She groaned in annoyance as he turned back toward the elevator, hiding a smug glint in his eyes. “No, but seriously, where did you find those? Did someone leave some clothes just lying around, or something? And they just happened to be perfectly your size?”

“I know a guy. He hooked me up,” said Ben dismissively, pushing the elevator button again. He turned to her, shoving back a lock of hair that had fallen out of his hair elastic. “You hungry?”

All of Rey’s suspicions and questions were immediately forgotten, wholly giving way to the munchie-fueled steak craving she’d had fifteen minutes ago. “God, _yes_.”

“For?”

“Steaks. And steak fries. And lobster. And butter to dip the lobster in.” Now that this had materialized in her mind, she would think of nothing else until she was eating.

He didn’t laugh, but the light in his eyes changed like he almost wanted to. The elevator arrived, and they stepped into it once again. “Let’s remedy that.”

When they got off the elevator, they went straight to the the surf and turf buffet. Rey made good on all her munchie cravings, piling all of it up onto two separate plates, and Ben sat across from her at the table she chose. And he watched, chin leaned on folded hands, as she ate. And ate. And ate. Weirdly, though, it felt natural for them to sit together like this. Not at all awkward. Almost like they had met before tonight, and had known each other for a long time.

“So this special brownie you ate earlier this evening,” he said eventually, breaking Rey’s food-contentment trance, “you bought it from someone, I assume?”

Rey picked up four fries at once, wolfing them down together. “No, I made it,” she said after she swallowed. “I make lots of them.”

Ben’s eyebrows shot up. “You _make_ pot brownies?”

Rey picked up her fork, dipping more lobster meat into the small cup of melted butter on her plate. She was pleased at his shock. She had always loved destroying people’s preconceived notions of her. “Not just brownies. Cookies, too. And chocolate. And lollipops. Sometimes cakes. I did a birthday cake, once.”

Ben blinked at her, staggered. “Do you…eat all of them?”

She snorted. “Nope. Sell ‘em.”

“Really?” He was fascinated. Rey wondered if this was his first time meeting a dealer—or in her case, an edible maker. “Is that what you do for a living?”

“I work in tech retail. The Apple Store,” she said. Shrugged. “I’m a part-timer. Pay isn’t bad, but it’s not great either. Not for living in Brooklyn these days. Especially with no roommates. I pretty much lived off instant noodles and microwave burritos for a few years. So I started making the edibles and selling them to neighbors just to get by. Soon I had a business going, and it makes a lot more than my day job. I’m hoping to be able to do it full time one day.”

“Unless you get arrested,” Ben pointed out.

Rey shrugged. All her customers were people she had known for years, or friends of those people, and for every bit of dirt they could scrounge up about her, she had ten times as much dirt on them. It wasn’t quite blackmail. Really, it was an exchange of dirty little secrets. Something that ensured her own safety. So something like getting turned in to law enforcement wasn’t remotely a big concern for her. She ate some more fries. “I could sell you one, too. For my normal price.”

Slow, Ben shook his head. “No interest in that. Whatsoever.”

She laughed, unbothered. She said in a sing-songy voice, “All right, whatever you say. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” She swallowed hugely, washing it all down with two giant gulps from her cup of water, then picked up the empty plate that had once held her fries and licked it clean. Ben continued to watch, looking as if he hadn’t seen a woman eat this way before in his entire life, and that he wasn’t sure what to make of it. “So what about you?” she asked him, realizing she was being rude by monopolizing the conversation.

There was a long pause. Long enough to be noticeable to Rey, even through her buzz. Ben shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. Finally, he said, “It’s not important.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “I guess. But I mean, you’ve asked me about my life. It’s only fair I get to know about yours, too.”

He sighed, so subtly it was almost undetectable. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. Paused again. He asked as if it pained him, “What do you want to know?”

“You know. Like, what do you do?” Rey asked, then she dunked the last bit of her lobster tail into the melted butter.

Ben really didn’t seem to want to answer her question. He stalled for a while, continuing to watch her eat. She lifted her eyebrows at him again, wondering what all of this dramatic pausing was about. She nearly decided to change the subject, seeing how stubborn he was being about this.

Then, slowly, with an odd tone to his voice, he finally answered, “I…own a company.”

Rey set down her fork. Now she was the surprised one. “No shit? Wow, Ben. That’s cool as hell. Seriously, I’m impressed. Have I heard of it?”

“Probably,” he said with a shrug. It was the kind of shrug that someone does when they try to convince someone that whatever they’re speaking about isn’t worth prying into.

She couldn’t help but notice. All night, he’d been nothing but ego and arrogance. What about this topic was so uncomfortable for him? It made her even more curious. “Well, come on. Tell me!” She picked up her napkin, brushing off her hands. It was the same as the napkins she had tried to clean up her wine with earlier, red with a logo on them.

He sighed, seemingly giving in. He sat up straighter. “It’s called Kylo Enterprises.”

Rey froze. That sounded so familiar. Why did that sound so familiar? Why did she feel as if she’d seen something like that recently, very recently, almost as recently as—

The realization hitting her, she unfolded her napkin. Stared down at it. Her napkin which said ‘Catering for Kylo Enterprises provided by:’ on it, with the local restaurant’s logo.

Very slow, Rey looked back up at Ben. She turned the napkin around so that the logo faced him. “You mean _this_ Kylo Enterprises?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

She stopped again, dropping the napkin to the table’s surface. Dread was creeping in on her. “As in, this is _your_ party?”

Ben paused. Then nodded. “Yes.”

Silence pulsed between them as the full realization washed over her: She’d spilled wine on a CEO at his own party. She’d been hanging out with a CEO at his own party. _Ben Solo was a CEO._

And he had thrown this entire, ridiculous, over the top, expensive and amazing party. With his tons of money. Oh no.

_What had she done?!_

Panic coursing through her, she jumped up from the table, barely able to mumble to him through her astonishment before she darted away, “Gotta go.”

Far behind her, she heard Ben getting up from the table. “Rey! Hey, wait!”

She ran for the stairs, thanking her lucky stars that she wasn’t that tipsy anymore, and took them upstairs two at a time. She flew through the door to the roof terrace, marched straight over to Poe, grabbed him by the collar of his jacket before he could protest and yanked him to his feet. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Poe’s face, at first concerned, fell flat. “What’d you do this time?” he asked, wry.

“No time. Tell you later.” She leaned around him, looking at all his lady friends. “Sorry, girls.” Then she grabbed Poe’s elbow and tore away back into the building and towards the stairs. She hauled him all the way down them.

“I thought you were gonna get stoned!” Poe yelled at her over the music. A band had taken the stage on the main level, and their music flooded the building.

“Change of plans!” She answered as they arrived on the main floor. She turned to him. “We need to find Finn. He had one of my brownies.”

Poe’s jaw dropped. “What? No. You’re joking. After _last time?_ ”

“I know!” She forcefully turned him around, facing him out toward the party crowd. “Start looking!”

“Uh, Rey,” he said immediately. There was something to his voice, too—like he was trying to hold in a laugh. “I found him.”

Rey looked in the direction he was pointing in. Her jaw dropped. There, on the stage with the band, was Finn. Dancing wildly and wearing his pants as a hat. A very flustered and embarrassed Rose was at the edge of the stage, frantic, trying to beckon him to come down. Poe burst out into hysterical laughter.

Barely resisting the urge to laugh herself, Rey pushed him toward the stage. “For God’s sake, go get him! He’s never going to live this down!” Poe complied, making his way over to the stage, cackling loudly the entire way.

She was about to follow when she heard from behind her, in a familiar deep voice, “Just let me explain.”

Rey spun, and for the second time that night, Ben was behind her. Her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of him, now knowing who he was. She couldn’t decide if she was embarrassed, or angry, or repulsed. Or all of the above. But, as she thought about it again, he definitely made her nervous. And she still didn’t know what _kind_ of nervous he made her—all she knew was that she had to get away from him.

“Just forget it, Ben.” She backed away, shaking her head. “I don’t know what kind of game you were playing at, lying to me like that, but I think it’s best for both of us if you just fuck off.”

She watched the impression of her words spread across his face. He regarded her like he had when she’d spilled her drink all over him, as if she were nothing more than a momentary nuisance. “Hey, now,” he said. His voice had no inflection in it. It had become frigid. “That wasn’t very nice. Is that what I deserve for being so nice to you?”

Rey didn’t waste a second. “What you’re saying, then, is that your being nice was part of the lie? Okay, good. So glad we cleared that up.” She couldn’t believe that, for those few minutes sitting at that table together, and walking around the party together, she thought she might be making a new friend tonight. Or whatever she’d thought. She couldn’t believe she’d been so naive.

Ben’s eyes narrowed, hardening. His voice rose. “Why else would I waste my time humoring some nobody stoner?”

The words came out in a heated rush, driven by the sting from that singular word. _‘Nobody.’_ “Because maybe you don’t have any actual friends.” The sentence had left her mouth with the perfect amount of venom. The sound of it had lashed into him. She continued backing away. “I need to get my friend home. And I’m sure you have some super fucking rich guys to get back to impressing. Have a nice life. Or don’t.”

His eyes, dark in his cold face, had shifted—there was a different darkness to them. Almost as if there was something vulnerable there.

With that, she turned away. And, along with Rose and Poe, she towed a stoned Finn out of the venue into the dark clear night, out into the lamp-lit street and into a taxi, forcing herself not to look back.

 


	2. Part 2

_**part 2** _

 

 

 

 

 

“So, what’s the big deal?” Finn asked. He rested his forehead on the surface of his desk, which he’d been doing all day Tuesday between lessons. He hadn’t thought it was possible to be hungover from pot—although Rose had told him that she’d seen him pounding tequila shots at the bar at least twice, so it wasn’t a pot hangover after all.

But he also hadn’t known that hangovers could last _three days_. He was most certainly not built for partying anymore. Next time Rey offered him one of her edibles, he was going to run far, far away.

“What’s the big deal? What do you _mean_ , what’s the big deal?” Rey responded entirely too loudly. She took another wolfish bite of her fast food burger, bits of lettuce raining down onto the paper wrapping in her lap. Finn knew she had to get back to work soon, and that the only reason she’d burst into his 6th-grade classroom during both of their lunch breaks was so she could talk to him about her night at the party they’d crashed on Saturday night. But if she ate any faster, he’d have to give her the Heimlich.

As Finn had been rapidly spiraling out of control thanks to her crazy-strong edible—sometime between him high-fiving everyone on the main floor, doing cartwheels on the roof and dancing with his pants on his head onstage with a band he’d never even heard of—she had been accidentally getting chummy with the party thrower himself, the CEO of Kylo Enterprises. And somehow, she hadn’t known who he was until he’d told her.

Flinching, Finn slowly lifted his face from his desk. Part of a lesson plan stuck to his cheek, and he pulled it off as he said, “Listen, I know you have some weird… _aversion_ …to rich people. And you like to stick it to them whenever you can—”

She cut him off. “Finn, I _work_ for them. All those entitled, snobby, whiny adult babies that can’t stand to not have the latest iPhone, with all of the most expensive accessories, as soon as it comes out. Or some that throw a tantrum when they can’t get a rep to talk to them about a stupid Mac glitch the very second they walk into our store. And God _forbid_ we run out of stock of the most popular color phone. I have to face enough of them in my daily life at work, wearing _this_ lifeless monstrosity.” She gestured to the blue Apple Store uniform t-shirt that she was wearing. To Rey, wearing a boring shirt like that might as well have been like wearing a prison jumpsuit. “I try hard enough to avoid them outside of work. All I wanted was to hang out with my friends and have fun. I should’ve done that instead.” She pointed at him. “I should have been helping Rose watch you! Then maybe I could’ve prevented whoever filmed that viral video of you.”

Both of Finn’s hands flew up into the air, bringing her rant to a screeching halt. “Wait, wait. Hold up. What damn video?”

Rey stopped, wincing. “You haven’t seen it. Oh.” Finn stared at her until she was forced to add, by way of explanation, “You’re a meme.”

His eyes grew huge. “Please tell me you’re joking.” She’d already taken out her phone, pressing play on a video and turning it toward him. There he was, dancing like a madman onstage at the party, pants flopping through the air on top of his head. Underneath the video, the caption, ‘ _when the blunt hits_ ’. Finn groaned, spiraling in his dread. “No. _No!_ This can’t be happening! What if my students find this?”

“Not to rub it in, but I’m pretty sure they already have,” replied Rey, cringing with sympathy. She put her phone away again. “I could try to see if someone at work knows how we could get it taken down.”

Finn waved dismissively, pinching the bridge of his nose, knowing that the damage had already been done. He was going to be ‘Teacher HeadPants’ forever now. He was just grateful that his boss, the principal of William Alexander Middle School, was an understanding, kind person. “You were saying?” he managed to say through the humiliation that buried him.

Rey sighed, returning to the previous point she’d been making before the topic had been derailed. “Anyway. I try to avoid getting involved with rich snobs outside of work. And at the _one_ cool party I’ve been to in years, one where I could just be nameless and have fun without having to fake smile for 7 straight hours, someone like him had to go and just—just—”

“Yes. Okay.” Finn cut her off this time, feeling another voice raise impending. “I get what you’re saying, I do. What _I’m_ saying, though, is that _maybe_ he wasn’t trying to mess with you. Maybe he just…you know. Wanted to hang out with you.”

“He said he was humoring me.”

“Which he probably only said to save his pride after you split as soon as you found out who he was.”

Rey thought about this. Then her face squinched up. “Why would he want to hang out with me? Especially when I am just a nobody. Compared to him, I mean. In the grand scheme of things.”

“Because,” Finn grasped for the words to get through to her. “Maybe because he thought you were cute. Or something.”

Rey’s expression was nothing short of disbelief. “Oh, come on. Finn, be serious. I was stoned off my ass.” She took another big bite of her burger, and with her mouth full, she added, “Then I was stuffing my face like this.”

“Munchies?” he asked. She nodded as she chewed, giving him a ‘duh’ look. “Well, I don’t know, Rey. I wasn’t there, I don’t know what his deal was. And I’m not defending him. In all actuality, he probably is a dick. But, to be fair, he _did_ tell you his name. You just didn’t recognize it. That wasn’t exactly lying.”

Rey swallowed, taking a big gulp from her can of Coke. “Yeah, but he didn’t say, ‘Ben Solo, CEO extraordinaire.’ Or whatever.”

“Because he probably didn’t think he had to,” Finn pointed out. “You were at _his_ party, you know. Not the other way around.” Some of the tension left Rey’s face. He concluded, “You overreacted because of your own biases.”

She was warming to his arguments. Burger done with, she crumpled up the wrapping between her hands, tossing it into the trash can underneath his desk. “Well, maybe. Even if that’s the case, it’s too late anyway. Once he started acting like an ass, the damage was done. I told him to fuck off and told him he had no real friends. Bridge is burned.”

“Geez, Rey.” Finn shook his head. “Then why’d you come all the way here to talk about it?”

“It’s just been bothering me. I talked to Rose about it on the phone yesterday, but she shares my opinions, and I needed to argue with someone about it.” She paused when Finn laughed, smiling. But her smile faded a moment later. “And I couldn’t talk about it with any of my coworkers. I’m not close with them, and they wouldn’t understand.” She stood from the 6th grader-sized chair she’d pulled up to the other side of Finn’s teaching desk, hauling it back to the front-row desk she’d borrowed it from. Then she gave him a soft grin. “Thanks for listening, dancing machine.”

Finn, shaking his head again, but smiling this time, said, “Glad to help.”

Grabbing the rest of her soda, she waved at him as she left out the classroom door. “Have fun continuing to teach with a headache.”

Finn saluted. Then rested his head on his desk again, until the bell announcing the end of lunch hour reawakened the pain in his head with a vengeance.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Rey worked the rest of that day the way she was supposed to: Smile. Immediately greet customers. Speak in a calm, soothing voice even while being screamed at. Occasionally diagnose and fix ailing phones, tablets or laptops. Rinse and repeat. The sooner she got everything done with, the sooner it would be over.

About two hours before the end of her shift, around four in the afternoon, one of her coworkers, Teedo, came into the room she was sitting in, going through the catalog of next month’s new stock. He waved with his short arms, trying to get her attention over the sounds of Bob Dylan that poured through earbuds inside of her ears. After a moment or two, she saw him, yanking an earbud out of the ear nearest him.

“Yes?” she said.

“You’re needed out front,” he told her, nodding his head toward the front of the store. His green hair shifted, and he pushed it out of his face again. “Right now.”

She frowned. “Can I ask why?” She hoped she wasn’t getting fired. She’d been doing well, at least she thought she had. Would they fire her in the lobby, in front of hipster spectators in their suspenders, square-rimmed glasses and wax-sculpted facial hair? Her boss wouldn’t humiliate her that way, would he?

With Teedo’s response, all her worries cleared. “Customer asked to see you. Used your name.” Before she could ask further, he left, shutting the door behind him.

Rey, after pausing her music, wrapping the cord of her earbuds around her phone and shoving it back into her jeans pocket, uneasily left the room. Her friends never came to see her at work. What if there was something wrong? An emergency?

She made her way toward the front desk. It was mid-afternoon, and a weekday, which was slow for new purchases, so the main floor wasn’t crowded. And as she got closer to the front desk, she saw a very tall, darkly dressed figure standing there waiting.

As she got closer, however, the broad shoulders and stance began to look very familiar, as well as the black hair pulled back away from a profile with a long nose. Her footsteps slowed, and her stomach dropped straight to her feet. No way. There was no way.

Still unsure of who she was seeing, she called out, “Ben?”

He turned at his name being called, looked straight at her. Casually wearing all black from head to toe, limbs so long that it seemed impossible that he could move in such a self-assured way, with such grace. Ben Solo.

 _No_.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Her eyes were narrowed at him, part disbelief at his sudden appearance and part impassiveness.

Ben knew this visit was impulsive. He often made decisions on impulse, through _feeling_. It was part of what made his company grow so quickly. But sometimes it came back to bite him. Like right now.

He answered the only way he knew how to in this moment—with the truth. “I came to see you.”

He left out the small anecdote that he hadn’t known _which_ Apple Store in Brooklyn that she worked at, so he’d had to visit both—he’d gone to the all-white, triangle-shaped ultra-modern downtown Brooklyn location first, asked for Rey, gotten confused looks, and promptly left without another word to keep his dignity intact. Or what was left of his dignity.

Rey folded her arms. With her jeans, she was wearing a bright blue t-shirt with the Apple logo on it, drab-looking, but somehow managing to make it look as much a part of her as her hippie-looking clothes. And instead of wearing her hair down, she was wearing it in a strange updo that involved three buns stacked top to bottom on the back of her head. “So, what? You just decided to show up at my job?” she asked, voice rising. “What makes you think you can do that? You barely know me.”

“You’re right. I barely know you,” he agreed, keeping his voice even. “Just as you barely know me. But I felt as if we got off on the wrong foot before.”

Rey’s eyebrows fell over her eyes dryly. “And whose fault was that?”

Part of Ben knew why he’d had to see her again—the way she had spoken to him had moved something inside of him. The way she had talked to him as if he didn’t matter to her. It made him itch with anticipation. It was messed up, he knew. But regardless, with just their brief, flawed meeting, she had been tattooed inside of his mind. And he had to scratch this itch somehow. Even Hux had noticed how distracted he’d been yesterday and today.

Another, more cynical part of Ben had been hoping that by putting in the effort to drive across the Brooklyn Bridge, seeing her at her job would shatter the illusion of her from nights before that had taken up residence in his mind—the fascinating stoner girl with a sharp tongue, intense hazel eyes and a nose ring who didn’t give a shit about CEO Ben, or about what he or anyone else thought of her. He’d hoped that seeing her here, in the unflattering stark fluorescent lights of this store during the day, the spell would be broken, and she’d suddenly be an ordinary girl, and he could get her out of his head and get back to his regular life.

So far? No such luck.

He was hoping to nip all of this in the bud with this impulsive trip, but he knew now that it wasn’t going to go away so easily. Under her cutting gaze, he only felt the spell worsen.

“Yes, okay. It was my fault,” he admitted. “I should have told you who I was the minute we met. I’ll admit that. But I don’t have to prove anything to you. Just as you have nothing to prove to me.”

“Of course you have nothing to prove to me, Sir Money Bags.”

Ben sighed through his nose, taking the name-calling in stride. He had no doubt in his mind that she would have called him something much nastier had they not been at her place of work. He continued with his blunt honesty, because something about her and the way that she was looking at him right now just pulled the honesty right out of him. “But I just…I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about what you said. I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I don’t know why, but it got to me. And I just…felt like I had to see you again.”

A gross understatement.

Rey paused a few moments. Hearing him admit that seemed to have surprised her, at least for a moment. Then her eyes hardened to steel again. “Well, I’m not going to apologize. So, if that’s what you came here for—”

“I don’t expect you to apologize,” Ben said, cutting her off. “Especially since you were right.” He shrugged slightly, nodding. A nod of admission that he, indeed, had no real ‘friends’ to speak of. It stung something fierce to admit, almost as much as it had stung him to hear. But even growing up, his friends were far and few in-between, aside from spoiled kids that were just as snobby as he was. “You were right. And it’s not like I didn’t know it already. But hearing it from you felt different.”

Another pause. She shook her head, her gaze falling down to the floor. “Why was it any different coming from me?” Her stubbornness was starting to deflate.

“Because you’re different,” he said.

Her tone was flat. “Different from who, exactly?”

“Everyone.” As her chin jerked up, her shocked gaze meeting his, Ben held it. That same feeling from that Saturday night returned, that familiarity. That feeling that something unexplained and unspoken brewed in the space that they occupied. “Everyone,” he repeated. “Though there’s one thing you weren’t right about. And that was your assumption that I was only being nice to you because I wanted to maintain the lie. That wasn’t why I was nice to you.”

She kept her eyes on his. “Why then?” She threw her hands up, then dropped them again. “Were you trying to look good in front of your party guests, or something?”

“I simply wanted to be around you. Talk to you.” Ben’s voice had quieted. He was being sincere. For once. So he hoped that she would believe him. “That’s all.”

She inhaled slowly. For the first time, Rey appeared to be speechless. Her mouth worked, then she looked down at her feet and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Ben took the opportunity to step closer to her, closing the several feet of distance between them. He expected her to move away—and it took him by surprise when she didn’t. Rey didn’t move, only shifted on her feet, stalling several moments before she looked up at him again. They stood only a foot away from each other now.

Ben knew he was being too impulsive, and perhaps irrational. But right now he didn’t want to think about it too much, and he didn’t care. “I’d like to start over. Pretend that Saturday night wasn’t the first time that we met. Start clean.” He nodded in the direction of the store’s front doors. “Wanna go somewhere?”

After a moment, Rey let out a laugh in surprise. “Uh, I have a job. Which you’re at. Right now.” She gestured widely at the building around them with both hands, arching an eyebrow. “I can’t just leave. My shift isn’t over yet.”

He didn’t let the sassy response sway him. “When do you get off?”

“In about two hours.” There was still the slightest bit of reservation in her tone, he noticed. But she wasn’t saying no to his invitation either.

“Then I’ll be back.” Ben took a few steps backward, heading toward the front entrance. “I’ll pick you up at the front. Black Bentley.”

Rey, dazed, watched him walk away at first, then suddenly said, as though something had just occurred to her, “Wait, don’t you have a job to be at right now? Doing CEO things?”

“I work for myself. I do what I want.” He finally turned, walking away with his long strides. Over his shoulder, he called before he pushed through the front doors, “See you in two hours.”

This time, _he’d_ gotten to walk away.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  
“What do you _mean_ he showed up at your job?!” Rose yelled.

Five minutes later, Rey had locked herself in the women’s bathroom. The place was empty, so she hadn’t even bothered to go into a stall before she’d yanked out her phone from her pocket and facetimed Rose. Normally, as an engineer, Rose was hard to reach during the work day, but Rey had caught her on break.

“Swear to God, Rose! He just left.” Rey said. “He said he wanted to see me. That we got off on the wrong foot and that he wanted to start over.”

Through her expression, her levels of outrage were practically tangible through the screen of Rey’s phone. “What a nutjob!” Rose exclaimed. Then she quickly glanced behind her, likely making sure no one was overhearing her side of their conversation. “Who the hell does that? How does he even know where you work?”

Rey, about to agree with great enthusiasm, paused as she thought of something. “Well, I might’ve told him accidentally. Or purposely.” At Rose’s face, she quickly added, “While I was drunk! And high. It wasn’t sober Rey, it was drunk and stoned Rey! I wasn’t in my right mind!”

Shaking her head, Rose asked, “Geez, I can’t believe you told him where you work. What else did he say, then? Please don’t tell me he asked you out.”

“He asked me out,” Rey admitted point blank.

“Oh my God.” Rose smacked a hand to her forehead. “Please don’t tell me you said yes.”

Rey stalled for several moments, looking away from her phone’s screen as her face heated up. She shrugged. “I didn’t… _say_ it.”

“ _Please_ don’t tell me you’re going out with him!”

Rey laughed at the sheer absurdity of her friend’s ability to predict her line of thinking so accurately. She was so good at reading people that it was scary. “Okay, Rose, we both know that I rarely follow your good advice. Really, we should just assume that I’m always going to do the opposite of what you ask.”

Rose sighed heavily, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “What am I going to do with you, girl?” she asked.

“What can I say? I’m hopeless.” Rey cracked an ironic smile. It didn’t quite hide the slight tremor in her voice. “That’s why you love me.”

“Just be careful,” said Rose. Her face had softened, and concern came through in her tone. “Promise me that, at least. Stay safe.”

“I’ll try my best.”

The truth of the matter was, Rey couldn’t promise anything to anyone. Not to her best friend. Not even to herself. And she had no idea what she was about to get herself into.

 

#

 

Two hours later, just as he said, he was outside the Williamsburg Apple Store. His shiny black Bentley was stalled next to the curb, looking more expensive than anything Rey had sat inside in her entire life. It looked like a black panther crouched on its’ haunches, ready to launch at its’ next prey.

She walked up to the passenger window, waving to make sure he had seen her, then grabbed the door handle and opened the door, bending to look inside. Ben sat at the wheel, dark shades over his eyes, hair loose around his face instead of in an elastic. It looked, Rey dared to think, as good as it did down as it did up. She felt his gaze behind his sunglasses, but it didn’t feel any less the way it did before—like he was looking straight through her.

“Good evening,” he said.

“Same to you,” Rey said brusquely, dropping down into the passenger’s seat. She tucked her feet into the car and shut the door.

She took a moment to settle against the black leather seat, taking in the fresh-car scent and the spotless dashboard. This car was well taken care of. By who, though, was the question. He probably hired people to keep his car clean, she thought. He also probably had maids and butlers, and a personal trainer and a cook that made all his meals for him. Frankly, she was surprised to even see him driving himself instead of being driven around town by a brow-beaten personal driver.

Ben shifted his car out of park and began pulling away from the curb, bracing his hand against the top of her seat as he glanced out the back window. “You changed,” he said.

Rey glanced down at herself. She’d changed out of the uniform shirt into a crocheted midriff tank and a bell-sleeved, long shawl with her jeans. It was what she’d worn into work that morning, not knowing she’d have any after-work plans. “I hate wearing the uniform on my commute. Usually, I take the bus,” she explained. “Mostly people see the Apple logo and ask me for discounts. Assholes.”

“Assholes, indeed.” Ben drove away from the Apple store, then glanced over at her. Unlike earlier, his voice was overly neutral. “So. What is there to do around here?”

Rey restrained a snort. Surely he was joking. She looked at him. He…didn’t look like he was joking. “You don’t come to Brooklyn often, do you?” she asked him.

For a moment, he appeared defensive. “Most of my business needs are limited to uptown only. Besides, you don’t go to Manhattan often.”

She paused. Then she sniffed. “Touche,” she said. When he didn’t respond, she realized he was still waiting for a response to his question. He wanted her to pick where to go because he didn’t know the area. She supposed she didn’t have to be a dick about it. “Wanna get froyo?” she suggested finally.

He didn’t answer for several moments, and for a self-conscious moment, Rey wondered if she had misunderstood his question—if he had meant some place impressive and fancy, or something. But then he asked, not sounding unyielding, “From where?”

“Let’s go to Pinkberry.” She pointed left. “On 7th avenue. Take Eastern Parkway, it’s shorter.”

 

#

 

19 minutes later, the two of them exited the place with their bowls of yogurt. On the way back to his car, Rey peeked down into his covered bowl, noticing how empty it looked. “What’d you get?”

“Vanilla with hot fudge,” he answered.

“Ugh. That’s it? So boring,” she scoffed. “All those toppings in there and you stick to one thing?”

“I prefer to know exactly what I’m getting,” he said. “And it’s a classic combination. Can never go wrong with it.” The two of them reentered his car, and as the two of them shut their doors, Ben glanced at her bowl. She knew what he had to be thinking—that her bowl was so colorful inside that it looked like a unicorn had given birth. Just like she liked it. “What’d you get, then?”

“Banana flavor with cheesecake bites, yogurt covered pretzels, Lucky Charms, rainbow sprinkles, peaches and mini gummy bears.” When she finished, she saw the barely repressed disgust on his face. She squinted. “What? Are you allergic to fun, or something?”

“Of course not,” he answered a few seconds too late for it to be convincing. “I’m just wondering how any of that could possibly taste good together.”

She explained, “I like to eat all of the gummy bears first, then the marshmallows from the Lucky Charms. Then I mix it all together. And it tastes _amazing_. Like a bowl of happiness.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Ben started his car’s engine, and after handing his bowl and spoon over to Rey to hold as he drove, he began backing out of his parking space. She was very, very aware of him as they sat in this car. Maybe it was the closed-in proximity amplifying every little shift, every little noise, or the way that when they were in here, she could faintly smell the scent of his cologne. Leathery, woodsy, spicy. Heady, but not overwhelming. He smelled like the taste of that expensive red wine she’d had at his party.

As she found herself watching him as he stared ahead at the road, she recalled the taste of that dark wine. The way that it had made her throat burn and throbbed in her veins.

Rey swallowed hard. To distract her wandering mind and pull herself back together, she cleared her throat and looked away, staring down into his bowl through the lid. Shaking her head slowly, she said, “Unimaginative. Frankly, I’m disappointed.” When he didn’t answer as they pulled back onto the main street, she asked, “So, I assume you prefer not to eat in this super-clean fancy car of yours.”

Ben replied, voice deeper in a wry manner, “You assume correctly.”

Rey stopped to think. She didn’t know if the idea she was getting was a wise one, but there weren’t very many other options. “Wanna go for a walk and eat? We could walk through my neighborhood.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted him to know where she lived just yet, but that ship had already sailed when she had agreed to hang out with him. But she figured that if things went south, she could bail and call Rose for a ride home, or ask to stay with her and Finn for the night. Though that would make getting to work the next morning tricky. And their sofa always made her back feel stiff after sleeping on it.

Calling Poe for a rescue was out of the question, however—he lived all the way in Manhattan now, though he always drove back to hang out with the rest of them when he was free on the weekends. But inside he was still a Brooklyn kid through and through, even though his outsides were flashy.

“Okay,” Ben responded. “Sure. Just give me the directions. Wait,” he paused as they pulled up to a red light, and then dug into his pocket for something. He drew it out and held it up. His phone. He unlocked it, opened up an app, then handed it to her. “Just put in the address.”

Surprised that he would just hand her his entire phone, especially since they objectively barely knew each other, it took her an extra beat to take the phone from his hand and nod. She couldn’t help but notice that it was their newest model, and that it was black just like his hair, clothes and car—but matte black, unlike the glossy black one they sold in the store. “Yeah, okay.” She entered her apartment building’s address into the app, and it began calibrating directions from their current location. She handed it back to him, silent.

Welp. So much for her backup plan. If he did turn out to be a total psycho, she would undoubtedly be an easy victim, especially with her address _right in his phone_.

The sun had begun to set, and the street lights had come on. She glanced over at Ben’s profile, at the streetlights rising and falling over his face. Studied him again. And maybe it was just the dim lights, but she couldn’t help but think that she didn’t mind if he knew where she lived. And that she wouldn’t mind hanging out with him for just a bit longer.

For tonight, at least.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

After coming upon a street with large, flourishing trees lining the sidewalks, the automated voice on Ben’s phone told them that they’d arrived. As they came upon the brown brick apartment building, he frowned as he looked at the car-lined street. “There’s no parking.” He’d just barely resisted the urge to ask where the valet was.

“Just park in front of one of these houses,” said Rey, pointing at the tightly-packed line of townhouses on the right of the apartments. “Not everyone who lives there has cars. Just pick an empty spot.”

“I won’t get towed?” he asked. Rey snorted loudly as if the thought of being towed in this neighborhood was laughable. Ben said with a faint nod, “I’ll take that as a no.”

Regardless, he was glad that he’d decided to drive his more mundane Bentley instead of his customized and restored Rolls Royce. Although one of a kind, that car was for special occasions only and had been his grandfather Anakin’s car. It was also the car that the paparazzi knew to look for him in, since it was so distinctive. Tonight he chose this car because he was hoping to blend in enough that he could spend some downtime unbothered by those pests.

Not to mention that the Rolls Royce would have been thief bait in this neighborhood.

He parked in a vacant spot in front of the townhouses, and the both of them got out of his car. Rey strolled around the front of his car, holding out his bowl of frozen yogurt along with his spoon. “Your boring yogurt,” she said as she handed it to him.

Ben took it, resisting rolling his eyes. She really wouldn’t let this yogurt thing go. “Thanks,” he muttered. He looked around them, asking, “So which direction should we walk in?”

After taking the lid off her yogurt, Rey pointed with her spoon down the direction they’d come from, where the super long street was lined by seemingly endless apartments, townhouses, parked cars and old maple trees. “Let’s go back this way. It’s perfect for a stroll.”

They fell into step side by side, and Rey had already begun tearing into her melting yogurt. Strangely, despite it being a heavily residential area, it was pretty quiet out. It was a stark difference to Ben’s street block in Manhattan, where there was always traffic noise and always people yelling outside. It was…nice. Ben was surprised by this revelation. He had always pictured Brooklyn much differently than this.

Ben took the lid off his yogurt and took a spoonful, tasting it. Melting, but not bad. Just as he’d thought before, simple wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He glanced over at Rey. She was scooping up another big bite of her mega multi-topping dessert, humming with content when she shoveled it into her mouth. So she really _did_ eat like that all the time. He’d thought it was just a weed thing. Correction: It was a Rey thing.

He didn’t smile. But he felt the urge to suddenly.

Ben tore his eyes away from her, looking back down at his bowl as he dipped his spoon back in. “So, what do you do on weekends?” he asked her abruptly, forcing his neutral expression to remain where it was.

Rey swallowed, then turned the upper half of her body toward him slightly as she answered, “Whatever I feel like.”

He paused, blinking. “Meaning?” He ate more of his yogurt, letting it melt against his tongue.

“I go where I want, do whatever I want to do,” she said. She swirled her spoon around in her bowl, mixing together the remaining contents together. She continued, “I hate being tied down during my free time, I hate schedules. So wherever the wind blows me, that’s where I go.”

Ben stepped over a crack in the sidewalk, then looked up at the sky. It was rapidly darkening now, and the sunset tones that bathed them were changing to shades of blue. He’d have to get home soon, he knew. At this hour, in this traffic, the drive would take a solid hour. And he needed to go through his usual nightly routine of checking emails and making calls before attempting to get a good night’s rest. Yet he found himself wishing, for the briefest of moments, that he didn’t have to go soon. He had only picked her up from work almost two hours prior, but time had flown by. And just this small amount of time hadn’t been enough to scratch his itch.

He asked before he realized it, “Where do you suppose the wind will blow you this weekend?”

Scraping the last of her yogurt off the very bottom of her bowl, she shrugged. “Dunno. I guess I’ll find out when it happens.”

Fascinating, Ben thought. Infuriating, he also thought. He couldn’t tell which one intrigued him more.

They had reached a corner with a few big trash cans lined up next to one another, and Rey marched up to the nearest one, tipping up the lid and tossing her empty bowl and spoon into it. Ben, deciding the rest of his yogurt which melted had become foamy and unappetizing, quickly followed. She held the lid open for him as he tossed his in as well.

Rey then turned on her toes, leading Ben to follow her back the way that they’d come once again. When he caught up with her in just a few strides, she remarked, hooking her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, “You know, you’re awfully interested in the weekend plans of someone who’s a nobody.”

The sentence went through him like a strike of lightning. For just a moment, he felt a flash of remorse so great that his foot stumbled mid-stride. “I didn’t mean that,” he said. And it was the truth. “I’m sorry.”

Rey didn’t look at him, even as he’d apologized. She only looked down at her dusty boots as she kept walking. She sniffed as if she didn’t care. But he sensed that she really had cared. “Then why would you say it?” she asked him.

The question was innocuous enough on the outside. But it forced the kind of introspection that Ben generally preferred to avoid a majority of the time. Especially since he didn’t enjoy explaining himself to others, or even talking about himself on a personal level. It made him profoundly uncomfortable.

There was a long pause where Rey patiently waited for his answer without prodding him or asking him the question again, and Ben worked up the courage to say what he knew was the honest answer. He managed to finally. “…I’m…predisposed to pushing people away. From me.” The answer was jilted, but it was out at least.

“Why?” Her voice was calm. Another innocuous, dreadful question, though this one was only a single word.

Ben gnawed on the inside of his cheek. This was painful. But he knew it was only difficult for him because he wasn’t used to it. He forced himself to answer, to feel the discomfort. “…For protection.” She didn’t say anything, and he felt compelled to add, “There are many people who try to use me for my money and my status. I have to weed them out for my own well being.”

Absorbing this, slow, Rey nodded. Then she finally turned to face him on the sidewalk, coming to stand right in front of him so that he was forced to stop walking and look her in the face. “Look, I get it. It must be hard interacting with people who only ever want to take advantage of you all the time. But why don’t you just let things happen as they may?” She looked up at him earnestly. Her nose stud glinted in the light from the street lamp above them. “Just be yourself, and stop trying to manipulate people and situations to make yourself look better. Then maybe more people might like you. Genuinely.”

Just like her questions had been, her advice seemed so simple on the outside. But it would be much more difficult to put into practice. Impossible, maybe. His face heated slightly from her apt perception of him, once again managing to nail down who he was within a few words. This ability of hers was terrifying. “What if I’m myself, they don’t like who I am, and their first impression of me is shot to hell?” Ben answers, a twinge of frustration catching his voice. “What then?”

There would be so much that would go wrong with that approach in his career life. It was a nice pipe dream that one could just be themselves all the time in the business world, but that just wasn’t how things worked. It wasn’t how the _world_ worked, period. And thinking otherwise was like believing in folk tales, or aliens. Or love.

But Rey smashed through his inner skeptic’s voice with a mighty outburst of, “Fuck ‘em, Ben. Seriously. Who the fuck cares what they think? They don’t matter. Do not give a tiny rat’s ass about what they think of you. That’s no way to live. Just live your life. You only get one of those. Do what makes you happy, for fuck’s sake.” She spun around and began strolling away again, then turned once more and walked backward as she added with a cheeky wide grin, “Besides, first impressions aren’t everything. Don’t you agree?”

Recovering from her impressive, obscenity-filled flood of encouragement, Ben thought back to that first night. Wine all over him, Rey high as a kite and using 10 balled up napkins at once to try to clean him up. Then Rey’s angry and betrayed face after she’d found out who he was, and their brief argument that had nearly prevented them from seeing each other again. But it hadn’t, in the end. He was here. And she was here. Walking backward and smiling at him.

“I suppose so,” he said, looking away from her. He didn’t say anything more.

In no time at all, they’d arrived back to Rey’s brown brick building. Ben could sense what was coming, and he was already coming up with what he’d say to refute her inevitable invitation up to her apartment. He had emails and calls to make. He had an early morning. But thanks anyway, he’d say. Then he’d walk back to his car without asking for her phone number, and things would remain solidly in his control.

Walking past the fenced area around the front yard where there was grass and nicely manicured bushes, the both of them made their way slowly down the walkway that lead to the front door, which sat under an awning. Ben came to a stop in the middle of the walkway, at the top of the handful of stairs that lead down to the door. Rey descended a few of them, then stopped on the middle step, looking back up at him, expectant.

Ben waited for her to say what he was ready for her to say, having his answer already rehearsed in his head. Then she reached into her small brown leather cross-body purse, taking out a small, pocket-sized Sharpie with a lime green cap. She uncapped it with her teeth.

Frowning, Ben began to ask her what she was doing—immediately being interrupted by Rey grabbing his right hand in hers, turning the back of his hand toward her marker hand and scrawling something in permanent ink across his skin. He jolted at the sensation of their skin touching and froze, eyes widening as he took in what was happening. “What are you—” he cut himself off, starting again, flustered, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Rey finished scribbling, releasing his hand with a smug lift of her eyebrows. She turned, returning the marker to the inside of her bag and descending the rest of the steps. Walking away, she only looked back at him once she was halfway through the front door. One side of her mouth lifted as she said, “Goodnight, Ben Solo.”

Then she disappeared, not waiting for a reply.

Ben was left gawping at the door that she’d gone through. Eventually, positively flummoxed, he lifted his hand and stared at what she’d written there in large, untamed handwriting.

_**REY: 929-555-0107** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!! Because of the support this story's already gotten, I decided to work extra hard to update a little sooner than I'd originally planned. Honestly, the warm reception Part 1 received really shocked me, as I wasn't expecting much of a response at all. Thanks so much to all of you for the lovely support so far, I feel so welcome in this fandom already!!
> 
> The next update will likely take longer, I'm afraid. Real life events for the next week and a half will make it difficult for me to post the next part as quickly as I posted this one. But fear not, I'll be working hard on it whenever I'm able.
> 
> Thanks once again for all your support! ♡ Until next time!


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our resident CEO and Stoner get up to some Brooklyn high-jinks on a Saturday. Get it? 'High'-jinks! Ba-dum-tiss.

**_part 3_ **

 

 

 

 

 

As usual, in the headquarters of Kylo Enterprises, Ben Solo stalked the hallways of the building, making his rounds.

Strolling by cubicles and offices with his usual unforgiving, fast-paced determined gait, he watched with gratification as his unannounced appearance caused employees to scramble into order and return to their work for the day. Conversations ended abruptly, smiles disappeared, spines straightened, and the clacking of keyboards followed as soon as he arrived. Just the way he liked it.

If anything, this was probably his favorite part of his job: the power. Just being who he was, _the CEO,_ was enough to incite terror in the heart and minds of those who worked under him. Just being beheld this way made him feel invincible.

If only the _rest_ of his job were so satisfying and simple.

Returning back to his wing of the building, seeing Hux standing in front of the glass door to his office, waiting for him, he sighed through his nose. Playtime was over.

“Mr. Solo,” Hux said in his grating voice of his, “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” There was an irritated light to his eyes, as there always seemed to be, unless he was trying to one-up Ben in some way. Which was constantly.

Ben knew Hux had been looking for him, which was precisely why he had taken such a long patrol through the building to avoid him. “What for?” he asked, brushing straight past Hux and turning the doorknob to his door. He entered his spacious office once again, his home away from home.

Hux followed him inside. “I wanted to let you know that Mr. Snoke called again.”

The name sent a harsh chill down Ben’s back, clenching his gut with low-simmering fear. “Did he?” he prods, not betraying his reaction.

“Yes, sir. He wanted you to know that he’s particularly looking forward to Order First’s upcoming acquisition of eBay and that he’s very pleased.”

Just the reminder of their soon-to-be-conglomerate website’s first ever acquisition was enough to twist Ben’s stomach. They had been working on this deal with eBay for months now, and he’d lost too many nights of sleep to count. “Glad to hear it,” he said, once again swallowing back his nerves and answering with no emotion in his tone.

“So was I. However, sir,” Hux paused, his own tone of voice changing, “I wanted to make sure that this acquisition is still very much something you intend on following through with.”

Ben, who had been straightening up the papers on his large, glossy black desk, stopped cold. He turned, looking Hux in the eye. His face was unreadable. “What exactly do you mean by that?” His voice held a staid warning. Now was _not_ the time to test his patience. He had enough on his mind already.

Hux shifted between his feet and cleared his throat. “I just mean, _sir_ ,” he put heavy emphasis on the word, “That now and then, you tend to…let plans fall by the wayside and change your mind. And I just wanted to make sure that things would actually follow through this time. Especially since Mr. Snoke has expressed how much he’s looking forward to it, and he is by far our biggest individual investor. I would think it unwise to disappoint him. Sir.”

Ben hated it, _hated it_ , when people told him things that he already knew. And he _loathed_ it when Hux did this. Which was _always_. Hux was, Ben knew and always had to remind himself, so jealous of him that one day he might actually turn green.

Hux had had aspirations of being just like his Grandfather Anakin, of building a conglomerate just as he did. And he couldn’t stand that Ben was his grandson, his actual kin, and that he’d had the opportunities handed to him the way that he did. Hux had worked from the bottom up, went to the right schools, started his career with nothing, and Ben had been spoonfed Anakin’s legacy and assets since the day he was born. He had the bloodline and the old money, and Hux did not. And for this, Ben knew, Hux would loathe him until the day that one of them was dead, and maybe after that as well.

Furthermore, Mr. Snoke had sought _him_ out. He had been a close personal friend of Grandfather Anakin’s. Even before Ben had conceived the idea of running a business, Snoke had found him, the grandson of his dear departed friend, and offered him the idea of OrderFirst.com and Kylo Enterprises—handed it to him on a silver platter. And he’d told him that he would be his biggest investor, from the moment the business opened its’ doors. Snoke had _made_ him, essentially. And Ben knew better than to disappoint this billionaire, lest his entire company be yanked out from underneath him.

And yes, they’d had some stumbles before. Ben hadn’t always made the perfect decisions from the beginning and went back on some promises he had made. Made some enemies in the process. But now those enemies were beneath him, not even on the same level anymore. And there was nothing that Ben hated more than being underestimated.

Ben had been staring knives at Hux for so long that the ginger had looked away and squirmed in discomfort. Then, finally, voice so quietly sharp that it might as well have been a shout, “The plans will proceed. Will that be all?”

Hux cleared his throat again, adjusting the tight knot of his tie. “Yes, sir, that’s all.”

“Get out,” Ben said.

“Yes, sir.” Hux turned and rushed out of the office as quickly as he could likely manage without tripping and falling, shutting the door behind him. Watching him scramble out of the room wasn’t enough, Ben thought. One day he would get a trap door installed in his office floor—one where he could press a giant button and watch Hux plummet through a giant hole in the floor with a shrill scream.

With a big sigh, Ben made his way over to his big desk chair, dropping down heavily into it. Pressing a hidden-away button on the underside of his desk, he watched as a hidden away black shade slowly dropped down over the glass door, closing out any curious, probing gazes from the outside and locking in his much-needed privacy.

Once it was in place, Ben felt some of the taut muscles in his shoulders and back unclench. Alone at last.

Only hesitating for a moment, he opened his desk drawer where he had stashed his phone. It had been a whole two hours since he’d looked at it last. Picking it up, he unlocked the screen.

Going straight to his contacts the way he had been doing for the past day and a half, he scrolled down until he reached the name he searched for. He selected it, opening up the contact.

There it was, right on his phone. _Rey. 929-555-0107._ Right where he’d entered it, transferring it from the back of his hand to his phone. He glanced at the back of his hand, angling it in the light. There were still traces of the green ink that she’d marked him with, even though he’d tried his hardest to scrub it off in the shower, thrice, and several more times in the sink. Similar to how he’d tried several times to scrub his memory of the sensation of their hands touching and the way she’d looked sitting in the passenger’s seat of his car. Comfortably. Like she’d belonged there in the first place.

His thumb hovered over the CALL button. He’d avoided thinking about it yesterday, as calling a day after she gave him her number would have been way too overeager. However, tomorrow was Friday. He had hoped to see her this weekend—but if he called tomorrow, she might already have plans by then. And he couldn’t just _assume_ that she wouldn’t already have plans of some sort, though she had told him that she went where the wind blew her.

Right. So it would only make _sense_ to call her now, on a Thursday. It would be rude _not_ to call her now. Calling her any _other_ time would just be ridiculous and impractical.

Pressing _CALL_ before he could talk himself out of it, he did his best to restrain the thrill that went through him at the sound of the ringing on the other end.

It only rang twice before she answered. “Stoner bitch of Bay Ridge speaking. Who the hell is this?”

At the sound of her voice, Ben’s skin heated. He stared down at the back of his hand again. “What kind of Sharpie did you use to write on me?” Ben asked, bypassing all greeting. “Was it industrial strength?”

“Ah. Ben Solo,” Rey replied. There was a smile in her voice. “Taking a break in your CEO duties to give me a call, I see.”

“Well, I did have a minute to spare.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I just called to ask you what your plans are this Saturday.”

“Saturday? Well, let’s see,” she paused, and he heard her shift the phone in her hand. “All day Saturday I’m making sugary delights deliveries to my lovely customers throughout Brooklyn. And then Saturday night I’m getting baked and watching Game of Thrones to unwind from my busy day.”

Ben’s throat tightened. Had he missed his chance? Should he have called yesterday after all? Without thinking, he blurted, “How do you deliver to your customers?”

Rey paused. When she spoke again, her voice was wary. “I take the bus and go to their homes to deliver to them. Why?”

He blurted again, “I’ll drive you.” Immediately, he cringed. That had been too eager, _too eager_. He rushed to add, “If you wanted me to, I mean. I could…accompany you. Since I have nothing else to do that day.” Better. Much better. Idiot. He held his breath and covered his eyes with his hand, thankful this was just a phone call and not a video one so that she couldn’t see the look on his face.

She paused again, for several moments. Ben could hear his own heart beating inside of his skull. Finally, she said, “All right, I guess that’d be cool.”

Silently, he let go of the breath he’d been holding. “What time Saturday, then?” He asked, restraining himself. He’d already lost his cool once in the duration of this phone call. He would not let it happen again.

“Noon. Does that work?”

“I’ll be there to pick you up at noon sharp. See you then.”

He was just about to push the red ‘end call’ button on his screen when he heard her say, “Hey, Ben?”

He stopped, pressing his phone to his ear again. “Yes?”

“Look cute for me.” _Click_. 

Ben stared down at the time length of the ended call flashing on his phone’s screen for a long moment. The screen went black, turning into a mirror, and it reflected the image of his own bemusement back at him.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

“Ben Solo,” Rey greeted with a shout from the front steps of her apartment building when she saw him approaching. Warm relaxation flooded every muscle in her body, thanks to her quick blunt break about ten minutes prior to noon on that Saturday. But another kind of warmth filled her at the sight of Ben, though she couldn’t place why. “Good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Ben said, face unreadable as he appraised her. He was wearing, yet again, a tight black t-shirt and black jeans, with his dark hair loose. It was as if this were his uniform, outside of what he wore to his fancy parties. It really worked for him. “However, Rey, could you do me a small favor? Perhaps don’t say my name so loudly. We’re not exactly going legal activities today. The paparazzi would have a field day if they caught us selling…” His voice dropped as he looked around them, making sure there was no one eavesdropping. He finished in a near whisper, “You know. What you sell.”

She found this overly-careful action of his strangely adorable. Rey let out a laugh. “Oh my God. Relax, would you? It’s not like I’m a coke dealer. I make baked goods, that’s all anyone else needs to know if they ask.” She stood up, and the numerous keychains on her backpack knocked together. “Now, come on. We’ve got lots of deliveries to make, and we need to finish before the sun goes down.”

They packed into Ben’s car, fastening their seatbelts. Rey placed her backpack on the floor of the passenger’s seat, resting safely between her calves so that the treats inside wouldn’t get jostled.

“Fastest way to get there?” Ben inquired as soon as Rey told him where they were going first: Sunset Park.

“Ridge Boulevard,” she told him. “We can get there by taking 86th. From Ridge Boulevard we need to get to 3rd Avenue, then get to 8th Avenue from there.” She looked at Ben expectantly. He stared back. She held out her hand. “I’ll just put it in your phone.”

With a sigh of what seemed like restrained relief, Ben reached into his pocket and surrendered his phone to her yet again. “Good plan,” he said.

After typing it into his phone and handing it back to him, they started their journey to Sunset Park. Rey leaned back against the leather seat, inhaling the clean car smell and gazing out the window. She’d never done her deliveries like this before. Admittedly, sometimes she could get a ride from Rose to her different customer’s places, but that was only once in a while, when Rose wasn’t busy on dates with Finn or didn’t have work commitments to do. And even when she could get rides from Rose, her friend still mildly disapproved of this business. But only because she was concerned about her.

Most of the time, she took the bus to each destination. It always took _ages_ that way—she always had to start early in the morning, and then would inevitably finish her deliveries late at night.

It was… _nice_ doing it this way. With a willing companion slash chauffeur. Admittedly, though, Rey didn’t quite know what to make of Ben’s willingness to accompany her on her business runs, or what to make of him wanting to see her again so soon. Rey knew to be cautious about these types of things, though. She’d been burned by guys showing interest in her in the past, thinking they wanted anything more than a quick lay. She didn’t want to read into anything or harbor any expectations.

Expectations, she knew, only lead to disappointment.

Ben’s voice brought her out of her own head. “You’re dressed differently today.”

Rey turned, looking over at him in surprise. “Huh?”

“You’re dressed differently. Not as hippie-like.” His expression didn’t change as he’d said this, but it had _almost_ sounded like he was teasing her.

Rey’s eyes narrowed, smiling. “You think I dress like a hippie?” She looked down at herself. Numerous leather bracelets tied around her wrists, tiny plain silver rings on her fingers, and a thin leather choker. Jean shorts, cropped green tank top. It was hot outside today, _blistering_ really, just the beginning of some late-summer heat waves. There was no wiggle room for her fashion today, it was either wearing this or choosing to bake to death. And not in the good way.

She couldn’t understand how he could wear head-to-toe black in this kind of heat. How was that even possible? Was he immune to it? Was his blood cold?

“Kind of,” Ben said. “Like a modern hippie, I guess.”

Rey wasn’t sure what to make of this assessment of her. “The clothing style that I’m partial to is called boho chic,” she informed him.

“If you say so,” he replied as though it didn’t matter to him anyway.

She braced an elbow against the back of her seat, turning to face him even more. “I could just as easily say that _you_ always dress like you’re going to a casual funeral.”

His mouth twitched. “I suppose I do.”

She was too stubborn to admit to him that she liked his signature look way more than she should have. So partly annoyed and partly amused, and too high to care that much anyway, Rey turned her attention back to the window. They were on 60th street, just bypassing 4th Ave. They were nearly there. This was the fastest she’d ever made it to Sunset Park—Rose usually took the long way there.

Still facing away from him as she gazed out the window, she said in a soft voice, “Hey.”

“Hm?” was Ben’s answer.

“Thanks for this,” she said. “I owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he replied. He insisted, “This isn’t a favor or something. I…wanted to do it.” His voice was even. He meant it.

Rey looked at him again, brow lifting. “Really?”

Ben’s eyes remained on the road. He nodded tersely. “Really. I’m glad to do it.” A frown passed over his face. “I don’t know why I’m glad to do it, though.” 

Once again, Ben Solo had surprised her. He just kept on surprising her. She still couldn’t make sense of him. The more she learned about him, the more mysterious and fascinating he became. Maybe she liked that. There had to be _some_ reason she kept hanging out with him like this, after all. But she knew better than to let down all her defenses around him. Because every time she looked at him, something deep in her chest burned with the sense of impending danger, the same way her instincts went off when touching something too sharp, or getting near something too hot to touch. A warning. Rey knew better than to touch an open flame, no matter how closely its’ magnetic flickering drew her in. She would continue to be cautious.

Slowly, she nodded, looking forward at the road through the windshield just as he did. “That makes two of us,” she replied.

But she didn’t mind, though. Not at all. She liked that he was here with her on this hot-as-hell Saturday. Glad for the air-conditioned car, and glad for some company. For _his_ company. But that was all she was glad for.

That was all.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

They arrived at 8th Ave of Sunset Park, and on each side of the street, there were multiple local businesses owned by the area’s Chinese residents, with signs written in both English and Chinese characters. The street was packed with cars, and the sidewalks were bustling with shoppers and families. There were restaurants, open-air markets with fresh fruits and vegetables displayed, and even small specialty shops.

“Which building is it?” Ben asked as they continued down the street without a peep from his companion.

“He lives above a bridal shop. It’s right next to a pharmacy,” she answered.

Ben gestured widely with one of his hands. “There’s about a million pharmacies here.” He’d counted four so far just on this stretch of the street alone.

“It’s further down. Trust me, I know where it is. Just keep going, it’s in at least six more blocks.”

Seven blocks and five more pharmacies later, Rey pointed at a small shop with mannequins in the front window that each wore a different type of wedding gown. The shop was sandwiched between an even smaller pharmacy and a tiny dessert shop that sold Japanese crepes and Thai ice cream. Ben parked right in front of the store and stopped the engine.

Rey jumped out of the car and onto the sidewalk and said, “I hope Mr. Huang’s home. He almost always has weekend plans. He’s a fashion photographer. Big deal kinda guy. Kinda like you.”

Ben stalled next to the driver’s side. He scoffed at the idea of a mere photographer being on the same level of importance as him, especially if he lived in _this_ kind of neighborhood, though he didn’t say anything—Rey’s dry glance was enough for him to keep quiet.

“Come on. We have to go through the store to get up to the apartments,” she told him. She started toward the front door of the shop before stopping, looking back and realizing that Ben hadn’t followed her to the sidewalk. Her eyebrows raised wordlessly.

“You want me to come in with you?” Ben said in realization. He was hesitant, certainly—it was already risky for him to be taking part in such unsavory activities. He hadn’t been sure about tagging along with her to every single doorstep, especially where he could be seen.

She tilted her head at him, reaching up to grip each shoulder strap of her backpack in her hands like a school kid. “Aren’t you?” she asked, eyes softening in disappointment.

Ben shifted his weight from foot to foot. He had planned on saying no to her—but he _hadn_ _’t_ planned for what he’d do if she looked at him that way. Guilt squeezed his stomach. He’d driven all this way with her. How could he possibly say no now? He sighed. “Hold on,” he said. He opened the driver’s door and bent down, retrieving his mirrored shades and putting them on over his eyes. Shutting the car door and locking it with his key, he made his way over to Rey, arms folded.

This time, as she looked at him, Rey smiled. She pointed at his shades. “A disguise?”

“Just in case,” he replied lightly.

She snorted and shook her head, turning and making her way into the store as he followed. “Whatever.” As they entered the small shop, she raised her voice and said, “ _Ni hao!_ Anyone here?”

From a back room, a curvy middle-aged woman of Asian descent appeared, and as soon as she saw Rey, her entire face lit up. “Rey! _Ni hao ma?_ ”

“I’m well! It’s good to see you again,” Rey told her warmly as the woman came up to give her a big hug. Ben watched the exchange in surprise. Rey hadn’t mentioned that she was friends with the owner of this shop. She continued, breaking the hug, “I can’t stay for long, I wish I could. I’m just here to visit my friend upstairs.”

“I see, I see,” the woman answered. “You need to visit me more often. Miss seeing your face.” Then her eyes landed on Ben, noticing him for the first time. Her eyes grew wide as she looked him up and down, and she looked back at Rey and pointed to him. “ _Lao gong?_ ”

Rey let out a high, nervous laugh. “No, no. Of course not. You know me.”

The woman clucked her tongue, shaking her head in disapproval. “He _should_ be. You’re very pretty.”

Ben stared between them in confused suspicion, and Rey avoided eye contact with him as she said, “Come on, we need to get this delivered.” She smiled at the woman again. “Excuse us, Mrs. Lin.”

As they walked through a door leading to a stairway, Mrs. Lin laughed to herself about something. Once they were making their way up the first flight of stairs, Ben observed, “You speak Mandarin.”

Rey was still avoiding looking directly at him as she rushed up the stairs ahead of him. She was still beating him despite him taking two stairs at a time. “Only a little bit. Not fully fluent, though. It’s a very difficult language to learn. I’m better at a few others.”

Ben was impressed, he couldn’t even deny it. He would never have guessed that she’d have any interest in learning different languages. “How many other languages do you know?” he asked.

“About five. My Spanish is the best. My Japanese is the worst, I’ve really got to brush up on it. My French and Italian are passable. And I’ve also dabbled in Dutch, but not enough to say that I can speak it.”

All right. Now Ben was _really_ impressed. “Why have you learned so many languages?”

Rey shrugged, one side of her mouth lifting. “For funsies.”

Ben blinked up at her, baffled. He said nothing else.

One more flight of stairs later, Rey led them out of the stairwell and straight to a door. She knocked three times and stepped back. A few moments later, footsteps came up to the other side of the door, and it swung open from the inside. They were met by a tall man, almost as tall as Ben, wearing a long kimono bathrobe over a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt, and a bright green skincare mask spread on his face.

“Rey, my love,” the man crooned, holding his arms out for a hug. “You’ve brought my special treats!” His voice was young, but there were a few traces of gray peppered in his dark hair.

Rey hugged him and laughed. “Of course I did, Mr. Huang. Did you think I’d forget?”

Mr. Huang abruptly released her and said, “Oh, honey. Enough of that ‘mister’ crap. You’re giving me Deep South war flashbacks. I told you, call me Jamie.” He reached into his sweatpants pocket and pulled out a wallet. “Two fifty, as usual, right?”

Taking her backpack off her shoulders, she set it on the ground and unzipped it. “Yep, as usual for your three dozen.” She reached into the bag and pulled out an old Swedish cookie tin. She opened the lid and showed him. Ben leaned around her, taking a peek. “Snickerdoodles, just like you requested this time.”

Mr. Huang clapped with the two hundreds and the fifty between his hands. “Delightful. You’re a life saver, Rey. What would I do without you?”

“Life would eat you up whole and shit you out,” she answered in a sing-song tone, snapping the lid back onto the tin.

He laughed. “I know, right?” Mr. Huang glanced back at Ben, one of his eyebrows lifting in interest. Ben looked away, even though he still had his sunglasses on to block some of his face. “Who’s this tall, dark drink of water? You never bring your friends with you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said dismissively, saving Ben the trouble of having to answer. She traded the tin of cookies for the bills he held out, and she pocketed the money. “It’s been lovely seeing you, Jamie. Enjoy your cookies.”

“I definitely will. I’ll call you about next month’s order soon. Take care, now.” He blew her a kiss as he grabbed the edge of his door. Right before he closed it, he glanced at Ben again with a twinkle in his eyes and said, “And definitely bring him again next time.” He winked at him and shut the door.

Ben’s eyebrows rose, unsure of how to react. Rey snorted and nudged him with her elbow as she said, “Guess you’re his type.”

The two made their way back downstairs, and as they left the bridal shop, Mrs. Lin called after Rey, “If you need a bride gown soon, you call me!”

As they hopped back into Ben’s car, he asked her with a frown, “What was she talking about? Just now and before, when she pointed at me?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Rey said with a large, theatrical shrug. Her tone said otherwise, but Ben, sensing that it would result in some possible awkwardness, didn’t ask again.

 

#

 

She didn’t look at him, not even once, until twenty minutes later when they made it to their next stop: Kensington.

“Sufjan Stevens is from this neighborhood, you know,” Rey mentioned offhand as they exited his car once more. They were on a quiet street full of residential type houses, a neighborhood that probably belonged to families and older folks.

Ben frowned at her comment, unfamiliar with who she’d named. “Who’s that?”

Rey stopped walking, gawking at him. “Are you serious? You’ve never heard Sufjan Stevens’ music? The musical genius of our generation, you’ve never heard of him?” At his shrug, she shook her head and turned back around, walking away as she said, “I have so much to teach you.”

She led them to a house with well-maintained rose bushes in front, as well as a random frisbee and soccer ball that lay on the front lawn. The sidewalk leading to the front door had a game of tic-tac-toe drawn on it in sidewalk chalk. Arriving at the door, Rey rang the doorbell.

A disheveled woman with wide hips and dark long, curly hair answered. Her face brightened as soon as she registered who it was. “Rey! So good to see you!”

“Good to see you, too, Angie! I have your monthly chocolate delivery.”

“Oh, thank goodness. Things have been extra stressful around here lately. I really needed this.” She took the small wrapped bag from Rey just as a big crash came from behind her. She spun around and shouted, “Hey, _hey!_ What was that? What broke?”

A chorus of ‘oooh’s responded, along with a high-pitched, “Sorry mom!”

Angie turned back to face Rey, defeated. “I might need one later, actually.” She dug into her pocket for her wallet. “The usual price, right?”

“Yep, that’s eighty,” Rey confirmed, holding her hand out for the cash. Angie handed it over, and as Rey pocketed it, she asked, “How are the six kiddos?”

“Like six individual tornadoes, as you just heard,” she responded, looking as if the weariness she bore went all the way down to her soul. Without even knowing her, Ben couldn’t help but feel some sympathy.

“Sextuplets. I can’t imagine. How do you do it?” asked Rey. She always spoke to people as if what they said to her truly mattered, like she really cared about them and their lives. Ben didn’t know if he admired that quality or if it had him wishing that he possessed it himself.

“It’s all thanks to you, Rey.” Angie looked at her gratefully. “I owe you so much. Thanks once again.”

Rey smiled at her. “It’s my pleasure.” She turned and taking the cue, Ben turned away too. “See you next month!”

“Bye!” The woman called after her, just before another crash exploded from the house—this one much louder than the first. Before she shut the front door, she yelled, “ _Who did that?_ ”

 

#

 

Brooklyn Heights was next up, and via the Interstate, the drive up there was only 11 minutes. The route was similar to the one that Ben used before, and he found himself relying on his phone’s map directions with less urgency.

After driving past the Brooklyn Bridge, with the subsequent nice view of the East River, they arrived in the classic neighborhood. Right away, there were brownstones lining practically every street. Brownstones of all shapes, sizes, and ironically, colors. Row after row after endless row of their signature long stoops rising from the wide, tree-lined sidewalks. Classy, affluent, but somehow the streets had a welcoming, cozy, small-town feel with all of the residents out and about, from children playing, cyclers riding, moms with strollers to couples strolling.

“This place is nice,” Ben was surprised to find himself admitting out loud.

Rey rolled her eyes. “Compared to my neighborhood, you mean.”

She wasn’t wrong. But he didn’t think she would appreciate him agreeing with that statement. “Not necessarily. Just in general, I suppose.” Ben wouldn’t say it, but if his whole life wasn’t so tied up in Manhattan, he wouldn’t mind living in a place like this. It was surprisingly polished and refined—definitely his style. Changing the subject, he asked her, “How did you manage to get customers all the way out here, anyway? It’s so far from your area.”

She shrugged. “I have good connections,” was all she said. Ben supposed it was better that she kept details like that vague.

At her directions, they soon came to a stop in front of a large brownstone home. Ben’s eyebrows rose at the appearance of the home—it was a classic brownstone, like something from a movie. He still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around her having clientele in a place like _this_ , in a house like this. Rey hopped out of his car once again, and as she did, something caught his eye—delicate black ink on the back of her hip, just peeking slightly above the waistband of her shorts.

He only had a few seconds to look at it before she spun back around, prompted him to hurry up and get out of the car, and shut the passenger door. From what he could tell, it looked like the small, solid black silhouette of an elephant. He wasn’t terribly surprised at her having any tattoos—her glinting nose ring, which was a hoop today instead of a small stud, had suggested to him that she was in no way opposed to body modifications. He didn’t doubt that she probably had even more, ones that he couldn’t see, which he immediately forced himself not to think of any further.

But the choice perplexed him for a moment or two. An elephant. Why an elephant? What did it symbolize?

He didn’t have time to ponder any further when she gestured at him impatiently from the sidewalk once again to hurry up. He exited his car, locking the doors as he made his way over to her.

Leaving him in the dust, she bounded up the steps of the stoop, and he followed with his loping steps as she rang the doorbell. He hovered a couple steps below her, not wanting to impede upon her too much by standing too close. After almost a minute, the front door opened.

A dark-skinned girl who was wearing some effortlessly-cool kind of clothes and had bright, bleached curls immediately smiled hugely when she saw Rey. “Rey! Hey, babygirl! How you doin’?” She reached out with both arms, initiating a hug.

“I’m great, Keisha!” Rey said, warmly reciprocating, hugging the girl tightly. They were about the same height, although the other girl’s hair gave her a few more inches. “I have your order for this month!”

The girl named Keisha broke the hug. “Oh, _hell_ yeah. You’re right on time! We’re having a get-together tonight. This will be perfect.” She turned and called over her shoulder, “You guys, our special treats are here!” A chorus of whoops and cheers echoed from elsewhere in the house. Keisha laughed.

As Rey bent, digging into her backpack for Keisha’s treats, she said, “I’m glad my monthly visit is so well-received in this house.”

Keisha leaned against the doorframe, folding her arms. “You kidding? You’re practically our savior. Me and all my roommates love your desserts.”

Just as she said this, one of her friends, or maybe roommates, came bounding over and stood next to her, just barely sliding to a stop in her socks on the hardwood floors. Her dreadlock ponytail swung over her shoulder with her sudden stop, and she said, beaming, “Rey, we love your shit. Seriously. Every single month, you’re killin’ it.”

Rey finally found the package she was looking for and stood, holding it with both hands. A large plastic Tupperware box full of what looked like mini cupcakes. “Thank you,” she said, receiving the praise humbly. “Here they are, your cupcakes. Half double chocolate espresso, half orange jasmine, both with buttercream frosting. Just as requested.”

Before Keisha could take the package from Rey’s hands, her friend grabbed it instead, looking down at it with excitement and awe. “ _Fuck_ yeah,” she said. “These are gonna make our party hella good, Keish. People will be talking about it for _weeks_.” She spun on her heel and rushed back into the house, calling over her shoulder, “You the best, Rey!”

Chuckling again, Keisha turned back to smiling Rey, handing her a handsome wad of cash. “Here’s this month’s pay.”

As Rey took it, she leafed through it, silently counting. “Oh, there’s extra. About two-hundred dollars’ worth, actually.” She started to hand the extra over when she was stopped with an outstretched hand.

“No, take it. It’s a tip,” said Keisha with a kind grin.

“Oh, no,” Rey shook her head. “That’s way too much. I couldn’t.”

“Just let me spoil you, all right?” Keisha made a shooing motion with her hands. “Take it, take it. And get out of here before I snatch it back.”

Reluctant but grateful, Rey finally nodded, pocketing the money. “That’s so generous of you. Thanks, Keisha.” She turned toward the stairs, starting to leave.

“Hey, wait!” Keisha called out, making Rey pause. “You wanna come to our party tonight? Pretty much guaranteed to be a good time, thanks to you.”

“I’d love to,” Rey said. She sounded genuinely disappointed to add, “But I have so many deliveries to make today, I can’t. Maybe next time.”

Understandingly, Keisha nodded. “All right, suit yourself.” Then, glancing past Rey and seeing Ben, she stopped, staring at him. Then she squinted in recognition and pointed at him. “Hey, wait. Do I know you from somewhere?”

She recognized him. And with his sunglasses on, at that. Ben had been hoping that this wouldn’t happen. Freezing in panic, Ben looked at Rey, unsure of what to do or how to respond. Her eyes becoming big, she grabbed his elbow and bounded down the rest of the stoops’ steps, calling out to Keisha. “Bye, Keisha!”

Leaving quickly, letting Rey drag him back to his car, he hit the unlock button on his keys just as they heard Keisha shut her front door. They rushed back into his Bentley, and when they were both safely closed inside of the car again, Rey breathed out, “I really didn’t think she would recognize you. Sorry. Phew. That was close.”

Ben looked at her flatly. “Too close.” Then he started up the engine, letting the purr of the engine punctuate his exasperation.

 

#

 

Twenty-two minutes later, they arrived at their next destination: Dyker Heights.

“This area has the best lights during the holidays,” Rey informed him, continuing on with her impromptu role as his Brooklyn tour guide. “I mean, they go all-out. It’s a Christmas Eve tradition for me and my friends to get coffees and walk through the best streets to look at them.”

“Must be nice,” Ben said. No one in his neighborhood decorated for the holidays—not counting the bell-ringing Santas that stood on the block corners. It wasn’t that he particularly _cared_ about trite traditions such as decorating for corporation-invented holidays. That wasn’t what he envied—it was having people to spend holidays with. Which he hadn’t had in a long, long time.

“It is. It wouldn’t be the holidays without it.” She paused heavily, sobering the slightest bit. “And my traditions with my friends mean a lot to me. Especially since I don’t have any family ones. You know, not having a family can be a real bitch around that time of the year.”

Startled, Ben glanced down at her. The suddenness of this personal admission of hers shocked him—not to mention how heavily he related to it. He had been beginning to think that they didn’t have anything in common. Hesitant, he said, “I can relate.”

She turned to look at him in surprise, too. “Really?”

He nodded, but only slightly. Then he looked away from her as he said, his voice low in its’ partial shame, “Except for the friends part. I don’t have any of those. Just associates that I’m forced to spend time with while secretly hating them.”

Rey offered him a look of sympathy. She didn’t look like she could relate to that at all—and of course, she couldn’t. She was Rey. Of course people liked her. People seemed to gravitate towards her like some sort of beacon of light, always smiling at her and hugging her. People only ever avoided him.

Except for her. For some reason. For the short amount of time that they had known each other, she had only ever welcomed him.

Arriving on the front step of the renovated, extremely modern-looking rowhouse, which Ben also had to admit to himself that he had an appreciation for, Rey rang yet another doorbell. The client at this house, named Mrs. Bishop, was a friendly and glamorous elderly woman with long white hair, cat-eye glasses, and a luxurious furry purple bathrobe. A poofy white cat in one arm, she received her bag of chocolates with one hand and then paid Rey handsomely.

As they made their way back to where Ben had parked, Ben couldn’t help but ask, “So how do you make these…treats of yours?” Rey pressed her lips together and shook her head, indicating it was a secret with a press of a finger against her mouth. Ben responded, “Oh, come on. You can tell me. It’s not like I’ll steal your secret recipes or anything. Rest assured, I can’t even bake regular foods. At all.”

She was amused by this. “Can you cook?”

“Passably, sometimes. Not overly well. I order take-out a lot,” he admitted. Rey snorted. He hurriedly changed the subject back. “Seriously, just tell me how you make them. I won’t tell, I promise.”

Rey deliberated for a few drawn out seconds, tilting her head to one side, then to the other. Then finally, she said, “All right, all right. Since you claim to not know how to bake at all, I suppose I can divulge my secret.” She paused again, this time for suspense, then said with a mischievous grin, “Cannabis-infused butter.”

Ben’s eyes widened. “You put it in the butter?”

She nodded slowly. “3 grams exactly, courtesy of my dealer. She gets a cut of my profits, by the way—ten percent. It’s only right. Anyway, I steep it in one stick of butter for just an hour. No longer. I’ve perfected it. Any stronger than that, and they’re just glorified sleeping pills.”

“So you don’t put leaves directly into the desserts?”

Rey screeched to a stop, staring, horrified. “Jesus, no! That would be enough to put people in the hospital! That would put _me_ in the hospital, and my tolerance is crazy high.” She leveled him a much different look then—scrutinizing. “You don’t know a lot about drugs, do you?”

He was sheepish, though he didn’t know why. “I dare say I don’t.” Then he steeled back up, shaking off the slight embarrassment. “Why? Does it matter to you?”

“No,” said Rey, and it sounded true. “I just couldn’t help but think that…well, with all of your money, and all of that, you might’ve…” she trailed off.

“That I would have sullied my grandfather’s legacy and squandered all of my hard work to feed a secret hard drug addiction?” He’d said it a little forcefully than was necessary. But he was offended at this insinuation of hers. Was this what others thought of him, too?

“Okay, all right. It was wrong of me to assume. But it was nothing like _that,_ ” she said defensively. “I just figured that with the kind of money that you have, and the kinds of parties that you throw, you would have at least tried some things. At least once. Just for fun.”

Ben supposed that assumption wasn’t as bad as the one he’d come up with. But it was still not like him at _all_. Ben didn’t ever do things for fun. He did things because he had to. Because he was expected to. “Well,” he said. “You were wrong.”

“I was.” Rey looked at him for a moment. Her face had softened. “That’s not the only thing I was wrong about, either.”

Ben met her eyes, waiting for her to elaborate. She didn’t. Without another word, she broke their gaze, turning back around and walking ahead of him again. He watched her back retreating, his eyes once again dipping and locking onto the tiny black silhouette of an elephant ingrained in her skin on the back of her hip. Watched how it swayed with the movement of her hips as she walked, with the dimples in her lower back that weren’t unlike the dimples on her face. 

Then, silent, he tore his gaze away, locking it onto his shoes on the concrete as he followed her down the sidewalk.

 

 

#

 

 

They returned to Bay Ridge.

And approximately ten minutes after that, Rey was in the midst of a colorful, spirited argument with one of her customers.

“This is not the right order!” The short man yelled at her. He had long, matted, tangled blond hair partially hidden underneath a knitted beanie and a complexion full of blemishes. “I asked you to make me waffles! I _specifically_ remember making this request, and you telling me that it wouldn’t be a problem! How difficult is it for you to correctly fulfill your customers’ orders?!”

“ _First_ of all, it wouldn’t make any sense for me to accept an order for waffles,” Rey shot back at him. “I don’t even _sell_ breakfast foods. Second of all, had you actually _made_ this request to me, I would have said no. Because making waffles is not a part of my business! I make _desserts!_ How many times must I tell you this?”

“Are you _insane_? Waffles can be dessert!” he screamed. “They’re sweet like dessert! Why _wouldn_ _’t_ you make waffles for dessert?”

Rey threw her head back with a loud cry of frustration. “Okay, I’m not having this argument again. The fact of the matter is that I _don_ _’t_ sell waffles, I have _never_ sold waffles, I will _never_ sell waffles, and for the millionth time, you asked me to make you _brownies_. So that is what I did. I made you brownies, as per usual. And I don’t understand why we must have this argument _every month_ I deliver to you. This has got to stop, Willie. This is ridiculous. I’m just a baker.”

“ _You_ _’re_ ridiculous!” yelled Willie. “And attractive!”

“How wonderfully creepy of you to say, thanks.” With a glare that could kill, Rey held out the plastic Tupperware further. “Now, please stop screaming and pay me. Seventy dollars. Cash only.”

Jittery, and with wide eyes, Willie reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty and a twenty, holding it out to her. Rey snatched it out of his hand, quickly pocketed the cash, and then continued to hold the Tupperware out. He still hadn’t taken it. Instead, he looked over at Ben, who was dangerously close to breaking into a cold sweat at this entire exchange.

Willie pointed at him. “Wait, who the fuck are you?” Ben stood very still and didn’t respond, strongly feeling as if anything he said or did would just egg him on further.

“ _Willie,_ ” Rey said impatiently.

Willie looked at Rey, still pointing at Ben. “Who the fuck is that? Is that the police? Did you bring the fuzz with you? Are you _implicating me_?”

“All right, I’ve had enough of this,” said Rey. She shoved the container of brownies into his chest, forcing him to take it. “Take your goddamn brownies. See you next month.” She reached past him into his apartment, grabbing the doorknob and starting to pull the door closed.

Willie grabbed the edge of the door, wild-eyed as he tried to keep his door open. “Will you go out with me?”

“No!” Rey shouted, straining to pull the door. She braced one of her boots on the wall next to the door to gain leverage. “Goodbye!”

Finally, after a mighty yank with all of her strength, she slammed the door shut, then grabbed Ben’s hand as she spun on her heel and broke into a full run down the hallway with him in tow. Not even stopping to ask why, or to balk at their hands touching once again, Ben ran with her. The two of them sprinted to the stairwell, and then raced down the stairs, not stopping to look behind them to see if they were being pursued. Ben didn’t say anything until they were several flights of stairs down and it was fairly obvious that they hadn’t been followed.

Half in relief, half in trepidation, he asked her, slightly winded, “Was that a crackhead?” She didn’t answer right away, and reading into her silence, he pressed, “He was, wasn’t he? Jesus, Rey.” He pushed his hair back from his forehead, which had begun to sweat.

She stopped as they reached a landing between flights, leaning against the wall to catch her breath. “Yes, Ben,” she said in between her gulps of air. “I can’t lie to you. That was, indeed, a crackhead. Crackhead Willie.” At his disbelieving stare, she said, defensive, “What? I don’t call him that to his face. Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Still considering it. You _do_ sell pot brownies to crackheads.” If Ben had known that the events of today would include being screamed at by a crackhead, he wasn’t sure he would have come along with her today after all. Or at least he would have stayed in the car for this one.

“Hey, it’s not my place to judge my customers. Even if they’re fucking trainwrecks like him. Not every customer of mine can be rational, likable people. Money is money,” Rey said with a shrug. She rested her hands on the top of her head. With the movement, Ben noticed the slight sheen that had accumulated on the side of her neck. “And it’s not as if I partake in that _with_ him. I stay away from the hard stuff, I swear. I just provide these happy-fun-time desserts to those who need them.”

Ben groaned in resignation, dragging a hand down his face as he leaned against the wall next to her. His heart rate was beginning to slow down again. “You’re something else.”

“What does that phrase mean, anyway?” Rey wondered aloud, reaching to the back of her head to straighten up her three-buns hairstyle. “Is it an insult or a compliment?”

He watched her fix her hair, tilting his head back against the brick of the wall behind him. “Not sure yet,” he said.

Rey shoved his arm with a smile. Just like he’d accepted her taking his hand, he accepted this other small bit of contact, not being able to bring himself to move away from it. Then she pushed up away from the wall, walking toward the door leading out to the floor they were currently on—the sign on the door indicated this was the third floor. “Hey, I have one more in this building. He’s on this floor. It’s our last stop of the day, promise.”

They walked down yet another hallway, and Rey stopped in front of the last door of the day. She knocked. Waited. Nothing.

Sighing, she knocked again, louder this time. “Luke,” she called out. “It’s Rey. You home? I have this month’s delivery for you. Come on out!”

At the use of this customer’s name, Ben got a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. The name itself was enough to disquiet him, as it was a name that had a lot of memories and pain associated with it. But there was no way that Rey could have known this, and he knew it was just a coincidence, however unfortunate it was. So he took a step aside and didn’t say anything.

Even as Rey knocked once more, pounding on the door this time, and the gravelly, irritated voice from the inside that responded—“All right, all right!”—sounded much more familiar than he’d been prepared for.

He moved quickly, pressing his back against the same wall that the door was on just as the door swung open. Rey only gave him a questioning look for a moment before she looked at the man that stood in the doorway. “There you are. I knew you were home. Why do you always try to avoid me, Luke?”

“I avoid everybody,” the man grumbled. Panic and rage shot through Ben’s chest. It _was_ him. “Not just you. You’re no one special.”

Rey opened up her backpack, setting it down on the ground. “That’s not true. I bring you special pot treats. Which therefore makes me special. To you, anyway.” She unpacked the last package of treats in her bag: a zip-lock bag of chocolate chip cookies.

“Actually, it makes you a delinquent,” Luke commented.

“A delinquent that you provide monetary support, set up with a good dealer, and care about,” she said with a cheeky grin. As he reached for the bag, she pulled it out of his reach. “Nope. Money first, you know the rules.”

Luke mumbled under his breath. The sound awoke such strong recognition inside of Ben that it paralyzed him. “One of these days I’m going to stop putting up with you. Then what will you do? Who will you bother?” He tossed her some wadded up bills.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll never get rid of me.” Rey stuffed the money into her pocket and handed him the bag of cookies.

“God help me,” he said, snatching the bag out of her hand.

Just as the door was about to shut between them, though, Rey smacked a hand onto the barrier, keeping the door open just an inch. “Hey, wait,” she said.

“What?” he snapped.

Her disposition had changed. She looked at Luke in a way that Ben couldn’t understand, like she highly regarded him—it confused him and annoyed him. “Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t make me worry about you.”

There was a long pause. Then Luke said, tone slightly less grudging and weary, “Stay out of trouble, kid. Don’t get yourself arrested. I don’t have bail money.” The door shut between them, then the sound of multiple locks turning and tumbling into place came from the other side of it.

Rey, leaning back from the door and stepping away from it, shook her head, though a dry smile curved her mouth. “Sorry about him,” she said. She zipped her backpack closed again. “You didn’t need to hide, though. He’s harmless, not like Willie. Just a grumpy old dude. He’s someone I’ve known for years now. He’s a friend, kind of.”

Ben stepped away from the wall, not looking at her. “He’s my uncle.” His voice was hollow.

Her eyes snapped up to his face. For a long time, Rey stood there, her jaw dropped, hands covering her mouth and face stricken. She was at a loss for words for a full minute. “…Christ. Sorry, Ben. Wow.” She shook her head, slowly lowering both of her hands. “That’s mad awkward. Oh man. My bad. My _total_ bad.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not like you could have known that you know my estranged, crazy uncle.” Ben forced the words out and was surprised to realize he’d meant them. Then he said under his breath, slowly coming back down from his shock, “Hell, I didn’t even know. Until just now.”

The situation still made him feel weird, though. It was strange that Rey, some girl he had only just met a week ago, had been closer to his uncle for years than he had ever been. He didn’t believe in fate or destiny, but it was definitely a crazy coincidence—one that he wouldn’t hold against her.

“I can’t believe this. This is crazy. What are the odds?” Suddenly, she opened her backpack again. “Here.” She reached into her backpack, produced a lollipop edible, and held it out to him. “Take this.”

Ben waved a hand, refusing it. “No, thanks.”

“No, seriously,” Rey said. She lifted the lollipop more. “Take it. It’s super mild, you can handle it.”

“I’d rather not,” he said.

She held it out farther, nearly shoving the piece of candy up into his nose. Ben leaned back from it. She insisted, “For real. You need it. After _that_ awkward mess that I unknowingly forced upon you? Hell yeah, you need it. Maybe not now, but definitely later. Trust me. I know about crazy family shit.”

Ben hesitated now, eyeing it. “I…don’t think I…” he trailed off.

Rey nodded, waving it in front of his face. “Honestly. No charge. I insist.”

Ben, realizing that she wouldn’t stop insisting until he relented, lifted one shoulder in a shrug. Figuring that it wasn’t often he could score anything like this from someone that he could semi-trust, he took the lollipop from her hand. “Thanks. I guess.” He probably wouldn’t eat it, though. He’d likely just throw it into the back of his sock drawer and forget about it.

Satisfied, Rey grinned. “My pleasure.” Then she nodded back at the apartment door that they still stood in front of. “Why are you estranged, anyway? Did something bad happen?” Immediately, she burst out, “Wait, wait. Sorry if that’s nosy. You don’t have to answer that.”

Ben sighed. It was long and heavy. “My family…has a complicated history.” Rey stayed quiet, letting him reveal whatever he wanted at his own pace, so he reluctantly added, “A lot of money equals a lot of corruption. Loads of betrayal and other things that were various levels of fucked up. And he sort of…ran away from it all. Including his twin sister.” He paused, then said in a soft voice that he couldn’t seem to help, “My mother.” His tone was full of all of the complicated emotions that thinking of his mother awakened in him. Something in his chest ached.

Absorbing his change in demeanor and tone, Rey softened. She touched his arm. “Hey, you don’t need to tell me any more. It’s personal. I get it.” When Ben turned his gaze to stare down at her hand on his arm, she looked at her hand, too. Then she removed it and said, changing the subject, “Well, hey. We made it to the end of the deliveries. You really hung in there. Thanks a bunch.”

Together they left the apartment building and, once returning to the quiet, air-conditioned haven of his car, Rey asked him, “You like Game of Thrones?”

Ben paused at this random question. He’d watched it before, but he’d fallen several seasons behind and hadn’t watched it in a long time. Besides, the high-fantasy elements of it weren’t quite his taste anymore. “Not really,” was the answer he finally settled on.

Rey nodded, thoughtful as she stared out the windshield. She stayed quiet for another minute or so before asking, “You like beer?”

Another moment passed, and then Ben finally registered what was happening. She wasn’t _literally_ asking him if he liked to drink beer. She wanted to hang out with him. Was he honestly _this_ out of practice with socializing? He answered carefully. “Occasionally.”

He felt her gaze on the side of his face. “Occasionally like today?” she prodded.

Ben glanced up at the sky, then at the clock on his dashboard. It wasn’t even late, only just around dinnertime. To be perfectly honest, despite all of the crazy things that had happened today, he didn’t want to go home. Not yet. He wasn’t ready to be alone with all of his burdens and responsibilities. He wanted to be occupied with this illusion of living freely for just a bit longer, before he was forced to go back to his empty yet overwhelming life.

He supposed that it couldn’t hurt. Slowly, he nodded. And he could practically feel the light radiating from her smile.

 

#

 

“So, this is it. The humble abode.” Rey led him through her front door. “Just have to make our way through the kitchen.”

Immediately, as they stepped into her studio apartment, they stood sandwiched between a medium-sized refrigerator, a small table, and what was probably the smallest kitchenette he had ever seen. There were only 4 cabinet doors, and lined up end to end underneath was a very small oven, the kitchen sink, and a microwave sitting on top of the counter. He couldn’t fathom how she cooked in here, let alone baked anything.

As they exited the narrow walkway that served as her kitchen, he beheld the rest of her studio.

'Humble abode' was definitely the phrase to describe it. He didn’t think he had ever set foot inside of an apartment so small before.

The large room that the narrow kitchenette had opened up to served as two rooms—a living room and a bedroom. A four-poster queen-sized bed was pushed up against the left wall, with a chest of drawers, which also served as a TV holder, on the wall opposite the bed. In the corner next to the window, a big round wicker chair, and in the corner opposite from that corner, a tall bookshelf with piles and piles of vinyl records stacked inside the shelves. And everywhere else? Barely controlled chaos.

The colors of this place looked like a psychedelic painting had thrown up all over it. Colors and patterns of all types absolutely overwhelmed this small place, contrasting and clashing all over everything. Knit and shag rugs covered what should have been decent wood floors, every square inch, and endless tapestries with swirls and suns and elephants covered all of the walls, along with framed posters of classic rock artists. On the ceiling hung vintage seashell chandeliers, plant holders which held ferns and other plants with long, thin leaves that dangled down, and dried bundles of flowers hung upside down from the ceiling as well, precariously held together with yarn. And her bed had layers upon layers of crocheted blankets and silk pillows with the yin-yang symbol and even _more_ patterns on them.

“So,” Rey prodded from next to him as she watched him take everything in, “What do you think?”

Ben didn’t know _what_ he thought. His brain was trying to absorb it all. So the first thought he voiced aloud was, “This place is an enormous fire hazard.” It was part apartment, part rug-and-tapestry storage, part greenhouse.

To his surprise, Rey actually laughed. “You’re probably right.”

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asked. It had suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t seen one yet.

“It’s that door there,” Rey said, pointing across the room. There was, indeed, a door on the far wall—partially hidden by the beaded curtain over it.

Nodding, he then noticed something else. “It’s hot in here,” he commented. Which felt like an understatement. The air was so hot inside of this apartment that it was almost suffocating.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” Rey broke from his side and walked back over to her tiny kitchen, opening the door of the refrigerator. “One cold beer, coming right up.”

Watching as she grabbed two bottles of beer and shut the door, Ben asked her, “Couldn’t you just turn on the air conditioning?”

She stretched out her arm, handing him his beer as she placed her bottle against the side of her neck, letting it cool her off. “No A/C.”

Ben, taking the bottle from her grasp, stopped and stared. “No A/C,” he echoed blankly. Rey nodded. “What? You don’t have air conditioning?”

She opened her bottle, unscrewing the bottle cap with her teeth and then spit it out. “Nope. No heat either. Building’s too old.” She tipped her head back and took a swig of her beer.

He stared for another moment or so, then opened his bottle too. Ben hadn’t thought there could possibly still be buildings in New York City without basic air and heating in them—even the older buildings in Manhattan had that. It was practically the bare minimum of modern living. He took a big gulp of his beer, letting the cold drink flow down his throat, and then another. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his free hand and said, “I don’t know how you could live in a place like this.”

Rey sighed, sitting down heavily on the edge of her bed. Then she shrugged. “It’s better than what I had before.” She took another drink.

“Which was?”

She swallowed. “Nothing,” she said. Looked around at her apartment, then back up at him. “Until a handful of years ago, I had nothing.”

“Oh.” In an instant, Ben felt guilty. He’d looked down on her apartment for no reason, just because it wasn’t his taste. This was her haven, her home. He was an asshole. He dropped his gaze. “Sorry.”

She shrugged, shaking her head. “No, I get it.” She paused, then grinned slightly as she mused, “My friend Rose doesn’t like my decorating either. But before I lived here, I had couch surfed through college. Mostly lived with my best friend Finn throughout those years. But I never truly had anything of my own until this place.” She took another sip of beer. “Everything here is mine. Truly mine. And that’s why I love it.”

“That’s what’s most important, then.” Ben hadn’t imagined such a turbulent past of hers, but he had a feeling that what he had been told was just the tip of the iceberg. But he wouldn’t ask—she didn’t owe him any further explanation. If she wanted him to know more, she would tell him more.

Rey suddenly stood from her bed, once again making her way back to her kitchen. “God, it’s hot.”

“Have you considered getting a portable air unit?” He asked her as she swung open her freezer door and stuck her head inside, trying to be helpful this time instead of being a jerk.

“They have those?” she yelled, before adding, “Ah, well. It’s probably better that I didn’t know about it. They probably cost like a bajillion dollars anyway.” She closed the freezer door and slowly made her way back over, holding a handful of ice cubes in her hand and running them across her face and over her neck. She let out a long sigh and shut her eyes. “So much better,” she said.

Ben didn’t realize that he’d been staring at her until her eyes opened again and locked on his. She held the ice cubes out toward him. “Ice?” she offered. Water dripped through her fingers and down her arm. At the shake of his head, she placed the ice back onto her skin. Holding his eyes, she tilted her head back, running the ice over her skin at a leisurely pace. Then she ran it slowly down her collarbone and down to where the top of her tank top dipped, making small droplets of water gather, trail down and disappear down her shirt.

When she dragged the ice back up her neck and pressed it against her cheek, catching his eyes again, she _smirked_. Lasciviously. And despite the beer he was drinking, his whole mouth went dry.

Ben had told himself from the moment Rey had ruined his party that the less he knew about her, the better. He knew just by looking at her that she’d probably ruin his life.

And that he’d let her.

This moment, as their eyes met, in this dim, hot, shoddy, messy apartment, he felt that premonition again. That gaze of hers had been trouble, he’d known that from the first moment they’d met. But now he was certain the rest of her was trouble, too. And he was screwed. Ben Solo was absolutely, positively, one-million percent screwed.

Immediately, he held out his bottle toward her. “Thanks for the beer,” he said, his tone formal.

Her eyebrows rose. “Leaving already? Have some CEO business to attend to?”

“I have some work I need to get done. Urgent,” he said. It hadn’t been a lie, he _did_ have work to finish, but the way he’d said it hadn’t convinced even himself. “Today was fun.”

“It was,” Rey said. Throwing what was left of the ice cubes straight onto the floor, she took his halfway-full beer bottle from him, her damp hand brushing his hand and leaving behind some drops of water, which he didn’t wipe away. As Ben made his way back toward her front door, she followed him. When he opened the door, he paused in the door frame, glancing down at her. She tilted her head, grinning. “Don’t be a stranger, Ben.”

His feet didn’t want to move. “Likewise.” Nevertheless, he made himself step out of the door frame and walk away. But after three steps, her door shut softly, and he couldn’t help himself—he stopped. He looked back at her closed apartment door, breathing in deeply and then letting it out again.

Clearly, he couldn’t stay away from her, like he had hoped he’d be able to accomplish after today. But he had just spent an _entire day_ with her and already he missed her. He hated even _thinking_ the word ‘miss’. He hated admitting it. Ben didn’t allow himself to ever miss anyone, because he didn’t _need_ anyone. And he didn’t need her. But inexplicably, he found himself wanting to go back over to her apartment door, knock, and say that his plans changed and he could stay for longer. But he wasn’t crazy, so he wasn’t going to do such a thing.

Forcing himself to exit the building and get back in his car before he did something he would surely regret, he started on the long drive home back to Manhattan.

But maybe he just needed to allow himself to see her now and then. Maybe that was all he needed.

So for his sanity, he’d maybe, _just maybe_ , allow himself to be her friend.

 _That_ he could handle. Just someone to hang out with now and then, to take the edge off of his regular life. He’d missed this feeling. Having a friend, doing things that could be considered having fun. He hadn’t experienced anything fun in a very, very long time, and he hadn’t realized how much he had missed it until now. Rey was everything that fun embodied. Rey could certainly be his friend. He was allowed to have a friend.

But no more than that. No, no more. Never anything more. He could never allow that. And more importantly, neither would she. Such a carefree spirit could never be held down by the likes of someone like him—a cynical, bitter stick-in-the-mud.

So they would be friends, he promised himself. _Just_ friends. Ben could handle friends.

Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, this one took a while to complete, sorry for the wait! I've done a crapload of research for this story, believe it or not, and this part required heavy research on my part. (In case any of you wondered, I do not live in New York City, nor have I been there.) So that's what took so long! I had originally wanted to update for May the Fourth, but ended up not finishing up in time. But better late than never!
> 
> I promise the next part will have much more of Rey's perspective! Ben kind of took over this one, didn't he?
> 
> Thanks so much once again for all of your support and loveliness. I don't think I would have the drive and enthusiasm I've had for this story if it weren't for you guys! Endless heart emojis for you all. ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our Stoner and CEO pay visits to some of her favorite spots in Brooklyn. Inch by tiny inch, things between them are changing.

_**part 4** _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rey's draw to Ben Solo was a strange, precarious thing.

One minute, she wanted to see him, and would agree to any form of contact that he would initiate. The next minute, when he wasn't around her, it was like snapping out of a reverie. Suddenly, she would realize just how much time she had been spending with him, and what that meant—that some sort of attachment or bond was forming between them.

That was a word that didn’t belong in Rey’s vocabulary—’attach’, in all of its’ forms. Rey didn’t get attached. At least, not to just anyone.

She was attached to her friends because they weren’t just her friends. They were the only family that she’d ever had. It started with Finn and Poe in college, and the day they’d met in college, they were inseparable. They had immediately welcomed her into their inner lives in a way that nobody ever had before—and once she had found those two knuckleheads who would do anything for each other, and for her, she knew it would be foolish to ever lose them.

So she attached to them like her life depended on it. Because it did. And when Rose had come into the picture, a wide-eyed but gutsy girl fresh to New York City from suburban Ohio of all places, they had all welcomed her the same way, without question. Because family was family.

Now, for other forms of attachment, Rey was attached to her job. But only because it kept her living the way she did now—with a side business, and the smallest pinch of freedom that an office job could have never offered her. But the moment she found something better, she’d be out of there.

And she was attached to Luke Skywalker, if one could call their dysfunctional bond an attachment. The old man wrung her nerves like no one else knew how to, and sometimes his reclusive attitude got _really_ old, but the fact was that he was an important figure in Rey’s life, whether she liked it or not. They had met by chance one day—he’d caught her, as a homeless couch surfer, getting into a public argument with the shady guy that used to be her plug, who had been trying to talk her into dealing with him. He’d plucked her right from the argument, then and there, and asked her what the hell she was doing. After telling him her situation—homeless, broke, and in great need of money to help pay for college—he helped her, even though she never asked for his help.

He had found her studio apartment and paid for it. He had found her a new plug, the plug he’d bought from for years, and what she could do to make money with the bud she bought until she could get a job—selling pot brownies was a lucrative way to get by in Brooklyn. And to start off well, he had given her some extra money to buy good quality baking supplies, which Rey deeply cherished and still used to this day.

He always claimed he had pitied her, and that was the only reason why he had helped get her life together, but Rey knew deep down that he cared for her. In his own distant, crotchety, Luke way. He was another form of family that she had found by chance, and she owed him a great deal, short of her own life.

So, yes. Attachments she did have—but they were few and far in between, and attachments only earned with years of trust and loyalty.

Any other sort of attachments, and commitment in particular, terrified Rey down to her very soul.

Feeling stuck was something she always tried her best to avoid, ever since her tumultuous childhood full of loss and hunger and a whole adolescence of being trapped inside of her own life, under the heel of a disgusting, abusive man who was her legal guardian but never deserved the title of family. The moment Rey had turned 18, she’d packed her bags and run away, and she never looked back.

She had promised herself that she would never be tied down to anyone or anything that was outside of her own choices ever again. That she would do anything to escape whatever she didn’t want to be apart of. That she would always feel free, and the moment she didn’t, she would run again without hesitation.

Which brought her back to her current predicament: Ben Solo.

They held no obligation to each other’s company, that much was obvious. But she didn’t even know what to call him. Was he her friend? Was she _his_ friend?

The two of them talked on the phone now occasionally. Mostly to create plans, which Ben always initiated. And she felt no need to avoid him or turn him down when he initiated contact. And when he _didn_ _’t_ initiate contact, sometimes for days, she found herself wondering when he _would_ make contact with her next, and wondering why she didn’t just call him herself.

But she didn’t need to call him. She didn’t _need_ to be around him. Because needing either of those things would, in fact, be a symptom of attachment. Which Rey was not.

Regardless, though, there was this…draw.

This draw to Ben Solo was what kept her from saying no when he wanted to hang out. It was what had her continuing to answer her phone when he called her, and every time. And it was what kept her wondering about him, despite her trying not to. And it was what kept her wanting him to stick around once they _were_ hanging out together.

Because that was the thing: Rey _wanted_ to keep being around Ben Solo, because this carefully growing bond between them was as fascinating as it was confusing.

Needing and wanting were two very different things.

So. As long as Rey didn’t voice it aloud, as long as she didn’t tell anybody else and only told herself, it was okay to want Ben Solo just a teeny tiny bit. Wasn’t it? A little wanting never hurt anyone. It was okay to want things. Rey had been wanting things her entire life. She wanted her parents to be alive. She wanted her own freedom and happiness and safety. She wanted to feel good as much as possible.

He wasn’t standing in the way of that, at least not yet. So far he had been an ambivalent presence, and not overwhelmingly negative. So on those grounds alone, Rey thought, it was okay to want Ben.

Just as long as she didn’t want too hard, or too much. Because wanting something too hard or too much, inevitably, always leads to _needing._

If there was anything in life that Rey was sure of, it was this fact.

 

#

 

The next weekend, Rey continued Ben’s unofficial-official Brooklyn education.

Starting in her very neighborhood, with the Verrazano-Narrows bridge looming high in the distance, beyond countless more brown-bricked apartment buildings and businesses alike, the two walked to the restaurant right next door to her apartment building in Bay Ridge. It was simply named ‘Family Pizzeria’, with no names attached to it. It was the very definition of a mom and pop restaurant. Right next to it was a very small realtor’s office, next to that a small family owned law office, and then a family owned barber shop.

The family who owned this tiny pizza place were so used to Rey that they had long stopped greeting her with politeness and instead regarded her like an old friend. It filled her with a sense of belonging and warmth.

“So, let me get this straight,” Ben said as they approached the place, after she had explained it to him on the very short walk over. “A meal here, a _full_ meal, is only five dollars?”

“Yep. Two slices and a soda, five bucks,” she responded matter-of-factly.

He paused, processing this. “How is that not some sort of scam?” he asked finally.

“It’s not.”

“Then, how could that possibly be a sound business practice?” He sounded so perplexed. A big-wig CEO, not understanding a small family business—such a cliché. This thought was endlessly amusing to Rey.

“One word,” Rey paused, her back against the front door as she aimed her pointer finger at him. “Loyalty.” Then she pushed through the door, holding it open for him as she walked inside the hole-in-the-wall establishment. “Feed me!” she cried out, her hands cupped around her mouth to amplify her voice.

The 20 year old son of the owner, who Rey knew as Joey, came out from the kitchen. Seeing her coming in, he laughed. “Hey, you! With the black hole for a stomach! Always eating all our food! Get the hell outta here!”

Rey burst out laughing. “Make me, why don’t you?”

Joey waved her off with a big gesture of his hands, then slapped them both down onto the counter. “What’ll you have? Your usual? Or double, for you and your friend here?”

Rey turned to Ben, who had fallen quiet and had been watching the familiar exchange with something between awkwardness and curiosity. “You want a soda?” Ben shook his head, and Rey turned back to Joey. “Just two cheese slices and a coke this time.”

“That’s it?” Joey worked fast, deftly folding two large, flat slices of pizza into their own pieces of wax paper, sliding them over the counter, then sliding a cold can of Coca-Cola after them. “You’ll be back for a whole pie again soon, probably in the next day. You always do. Especially when you’re baked.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rey replied, sliding a 5 dollar bill toward him. “Don’t rub it in.” She picked up one of the covered slices, turning to hand it to Ben.

Joey leaned far over the counter toward her. “Speaking of…uh.” He shot a look back at Ben, unsure, then he leaned even closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I might want some of your, uh, merchandise. Soon. For a party. Could you hook me up?”

One of Rey’s eyebrows lifted in interest at a potential new customer. “Yeah? You still have my number?” Joey nodded. Rey picked up the other slice from the counter, then her coke can. “Hit me up. We’ll discuss my prices.”

Joey slapped a hand on the counter again, leaning back from it with a big grin. “You got it.”

She turned away, leading Ben out of the restaurant. “Later,” she called to the owner’s son before they left out the door.

Joey waved, and as soon as the door had shut behind them and they were out of earshot, Ben immediately said, “You two seem close.” She looked up at him. He was squinting, and not because of the sunlight. There was also a peculiar tone to his voice.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Rey said, “I guess. Let’s walk while we eat, it’s nice out today.” The sun was bright, but not scorching, like it had been for the past several weeks, and there was a pleasant breeze. She took the first blessed bite of her slice and savored—slightly charred crust, fresh sauce and squishy cheese, familiar like a hug for her mouth.

Ben agreed, and they walked down the sidewalk the opposite direction of her building. There was an intersection just ahead, and across the street there was a garden center and an orthopedic surgeon’s office. Just as they had passed the barber shop and came to a stop at the crosswalk, Ben spoke up again, with that same tone to his voice, “He has your number.”

Rey chewed and swallowed before saying, “Who, Joey? Oh, yeah. He asked me for it ages ago.” She kept her eyes on the crosswalk light, which currently had a big red hand lit up on it, and she could feel the heat of his stare.

“He’s into you,” he said bluntly. “That much is obvious.”

Rey considered this, blinked, then smiled and looked at Ben as she asked, “Jealous?”

Ben immediately looked away, his mouth twitching the way it did when he felt tempted to say something but decided not to. The rest of his face was unreadable as he finally lifted the slice of pizza and took a bite.

“You can relax,” Rey told him. “Not my type. He’s practically a fetus anyway. I’m no cougar.” Ben coughed mid swallow, nearly choking.

Finally, the light in front of them changed to the silhouette of a walking person, and they crossed the street. They continued on in companionable silence down the sidewalk, enjoying the weather and their surroundings and eating their slices.

Rey finished hers first as usual, finishing the last of her crust as she turned to look at Ben chewing. “Good, huh?” Ben nodded in agreement. Rey continued with pride, “I’m one of their favorite regulars. That’s how I always get the best slices every time, instead of the entitled assholes that walk in there all haughty and get the roach slices.”

Slowly, Ben stopped chewing, then stopped walking. Horror grew in his eyes.

Rey stopped walking too, grinning widely at him, barely restraining the urge to laugh at his expression. “Oh my God. Ben, I’m joking.”

“Jokes are supposed to be funny,” he mumbled around his food, for once looking undignified. He stared at her. “That wasn’t funny.”

“It’s an inside joke, lighten up. There’s no roaches in there, I promise.” She took his arm and forced him to keep walking with her, though his strides had stiffened considerably. “Come on. Finish your slice.”

“I’ve lost my appetite.”

That Saturday spent together was considerably shorter than the last. After their walk, Ben had excused himself rather early, telling her that he had some clients to meet with back in Manhattan. But before he left, seeing the disappointment on her face, he’d asked her—a full week ahead of schedule!—what she wanted to do next weekend.

Rey had already known exactly what they would do together next, and how they would continue their unofficial-official Brooklyn tour.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

The following Saturday, Rey took Ben to her favorite Greek restaurant. However, instead of the average gyros and falafel, this place seemed to serve _everything_.

“They stay open until 3 in the morning,” Rey told him over her shoulder as they entered. Open concept, with a lot of natural lighting and places to sit, this place was already much better than that godforsaken pizza joint. “Not my favorite place for drinks in town, but their cocktails will do in a pinch, if I can’t make it out to Williamsburg. Their bottomless mimosas are kickass, too, but only for when I want to get daytime sloppy drunk, which is rarely.”

“I see,” said Ben, reserving judgment.

She went on, “But they have the best hangover food, bar none, and the _best_ bakery. This is where I come to get the desserts I don’t _have_ to make. Especially for my birthday. They make the most amazing Napoleon, which I’ve tried a million times to emulate and failed. Can never get the puff pastry to be flaky enough. Anyway, I get their Napoleon yearly for my birthday instead of birthday cake. Save up a bunch of money and buy, like, five of them just for me.”

The two were seated in a booth, where Ben ordered the steak, and Rey proceeded to order pancakes.

“You do realize that it’s 4 in the afternoon,” commented Ben after the waitress left.

“Thank you, Big Ben,” she replied. Ben rolled his eyes at her terrible pun. “I indeed _do_ realize what time it is.”

“Then why are you ordering breakfast?” he asked.

Rey shrugged with a smile, arching her eyebrow as if _he_ was the weird one. “Why not?”

As always when Rey made comments like that, when she flipped around and questioned every bit of so-called order Ben had always known about his life, he was at a loss for words.

When their food arrived, Ben was stunned to discover that it was delicious. This steak rivaled the last steak he’d had at his favorite steakhouse in Manhattan. But how? How could some teeny Greek place in Brooklyn possibly produce a steak as good as a Manhattan one? He was flummoxed. He continued puzzling over it as he ate more and more of it, and it wasn’t until he was halfway through his meal that he realized he had an audience. Rey was smirking at him from behind her syrup-and-powdered-sugar-coated fork.

“Good?” The way that she asked it told him that she’d seen his surprise and pleasure at the plate of food. She was rather good at reading his face, and he didn’t enjoy it.

Determined to hang onto his dignity, all he did was nod quietly and break his gaze, looking away from the satisfaction and pride in her eyes.

 

#

 

Later on that day, after they spent some more time wandering around, enjoying the day since Ben had more free time, Rey decided that they go to another one of her favorite spots.

At a small cafe called Coffee Prescription, Ben ordered a plain black coffee, no cream and no sugar. Rey ordered berry ricotta toast and a lavender latte, which had fancy latte art on the top.

As Rey took a picture of her latte art with her iPhone, Ben took another look at their surroundings. The walls and low ceiling of the place were all white, with minimalist recessed lighting that contrasted with the wood floors and wood counters. Behind the counters, there were two chalkboards, where the entire menu was written in colorful chalk with neat handwriting. And in the furthest corner of the cafe, there was a small, raised stage with a mic stand and a stool. It made him wary.

And as it turned out, he was right to be wary of this stage. No more than fifteen minutes later, Two women stepped onto the stage as a small spotlight shone on them. The woman wearing the cafe uniform stepped up to the mic stand. “Coffee Prescription presents, back to perform for us once again, the talented Richie Gomez!” The woman next to her, who had wild curly hair all the way down her back, long black nails that were pointed at the ends like claws, and thick eyebrows adorned with various sizes and styles of metal jewelry, sat on the stool with an indulgent smile at her introduction.

Ben glancing around, it called to his attention that there were only a handful of other customers in the cafe with them, who snapped their fingers in a demure version of applause. Small audience. With a lot of pressure to give their undivided, unwavering attention. Already feeling his insides cringing, Ben leaned across the small table toward Rey. “A singer?”

Rey, looking forward at the woman onstage, shook her head and whispered back, “No, performance poetry.”

Ben cringed outwardly. Even worse.

“Thank you, thank you all,” Richie told the scant audience. “This is a new piece that I call ‘The Light and the Dark’.” She bowed her head, clearing her throat. Ben prepared himself for what he was sure to be a dramatic display, but he still wasn’t prepared for the way Richie’s head snapped up, her eyes locking directly on him as she shouted, “DARKNESS!!”

Startled, Ben leaned back in his seat. Rey stifled a grin behind a hand.

Richie switched her wild gaze to Rey next, shouting, “SADNESS!!” Rey sobered immediately, her hand dropping back down to the table. Richie lifted both hands into the air, looking at the ceiling as she screamed, “DEATH!” Slowly, she lowered her hands with her gaze. The tone of her voice softened as she continued, “Birth. Happiness. Lightness.” Looking out at the audience with a graveness, she spoke her next line with a sudden calm. “All the qualities of a human being, of life.” Her voice alternated between gentleness and intensity with the different words that she spoke. “Laughter, hatred. Tears of misery, love. Growth and stagnation. Flying and drowning. Callousness. Compassion. Rejection. Acceptance. Making war. Making love.”

Overcome with a sudden heaviness in his chest, Ben fixed his gaze on the way the spotlight made a glare on the small stage floor. He felt the weight of Rey’s stare on him for just a few moments.

“Tragedy meets hope. Cold meets warmth. Darkness needs the light, and the light needs the dark. This is certain, and will always be. For without the darkness next to the light, light would never have shadows. And without the light in the darkness, candlelight, the moon and the stars would cease to exist.”

Ben swallowed hard.

“The universe itself bows to the void and destruction of the black hole and the speed of light. For it will never know a love story as grand and infinite as the light and the dark.” Finishing her performance, Richie stood from her stool and bowed deeply.

The room filled with finger snaps, Ben not budging until Richie glared directly at him again. He reluctantly snapped his fingers with everyone else, and Richie grinned in satisfaction at converting the last stubborn audience member.

 

#

 

“That was some performance, wasn’t it?” Rey asked Ben as they left the cafe. In her hand she held a brown paper bag, in which was the smoked salmon sandwich she’d ordered to-go to have for dinner later at home.

Ben’s insides squirmed at the question. “Yeah, it was interesting.” He supposed ‘interesting’ was ambiguous enough for him to use, without betraying how he’d really felt about it. She was looking at him again. Examining him.

“You seemed pretty affected by it.” She let that comment hang in the air for a moment before she continued, “I’ve seen Richie perform before. She’s kind of a local favorite. She posts her performances on YouTube and has quite an online following, too. Her poetry book sold pretty well on Amazon.” She tilted her head to the side. “She’s eccentric, and even a little out there sometimes. But goddamn if she doesn’t have a way with words.”

Jaw working, Ben allowed himself a nod in agreement. He didn’t want to admit that the poet’s raw, flowery words had gotten under his skin to a certain degree. Certainly, if he had been listening to it on his own, with no company, he would have written it off as dramatic, flashy garbage. But for some reason the words had brought to mind his companion. It was ridiculous, he knew this logically. But he hadn’t been able to stop his own mind from drawing comparisons. He was too sentimental, and one day it would make a fool out of him.

And now he’d be stuck thinking about stupid moons and stars and candles and black holes for the whole next week away from her. Of this he was sure.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The next Saturday after that, it was raining. Hard.

To their credit, on their drive over to Rey’s favorite record store on 5th avenue, called Record & Tape Center, the sun had been out and the weather had been hot. But in the space of five minutes, dark clouds covered Brooklyn and the sky opened up, drenching the outside of Ben’s Bentley. As soon as he parked on the side of the road, Rey yanked the door handle and jumped out into the pouring rain, standing on the sidewalk with her arms spread and her head tipped back.

From behind her, Ben rolled down the passenger’s window. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Cooling off!” She called back over her shoulder at his incredulous stare, then she tipped her head back again, letting the rain drench her face, plastering her hair to her scalp and her clothes to her skin. She yelled, “Ben, come out here! It feels amazing!”

Ben yelled back after a clap of thunder, “I just got my clothes dry cleaned!”

“You dry clean your clothes?” she responded.

“Are you really that surprised?”

Rey laughed. Wiping a hand across her eyes, clearing the water from her eyelashes, she was thankful she hadn’t worn mascara today. She ran headlong into a nearby puddle, jumping into it with both her feet, and it splashed up onto her bare legs and into her sneakers, weighing them down. She laughed again with pleasure. She turned. Ben was still watching her like she had a few screws loose. She loved being looked at like that.

She gestured for him. “Ben, come on!” She called. “You’re missing out on the fun!”

After shaking his head, he sighed heavily, getting out of his car. He trudged through the deluge toward her open hand, only taking it to pull her out of the puddle toward the awning of the record store. “You’re going to catch a cold doing that.”

“That’s an old wives’ tale, you know,” Rey replied, only letting herself get pulled away because he was holding her hand, and because she was going to do this again later anyway. “You don’t get colds from being wet. You catch colds from germs.”

“Either way, you look ridiculous. Let’s go inside, please.” His hair was already drenched, sticking to and dripping down his face and into his eyes. His dark gray t-shirt, the first time Rey had ever seen him in anything other than plain black, now looked black with all the water it held, clinging to his muscles in a manner that made her eyes linger on him just a bit.

“Suit yourself,” Rey said as they stopped under the awning of the store, finally sheltered from the storm. She took hold of the knob of the blue door and opened it—it had a sign that said, ‘ **COME IN, WE** **’RE OPEN** ’ and the rest of the door was covered in stickers, among them read, ‘Kurt Rosenwinkel’, ‘Radiohead’, ‘Beach Boys’, ‘Bowie’, ‘Bob Dylan’, and ‘88.3 FM’.

Inside, the place was tiny, and packed full to the brim. Short, narrow aisles were filled with rows and rows of records, and tapes and records old and new covered all three walls, displayed and stacked to the ceiling. Plastic bins held even more records and tapes at the ends of aisles. It was cluttered and dusty and as un-commercialized as possible, and that was why Rey adored this place. Well that, and Chuck, the owner.

“Chuck?” Rey called out. They seemed to be the only two in the store, and her call was met with silence. “He must be in the storage area,” she muttered. Turning to look at Ben again, she stopped. Admired the way that his hair looked glossy and even longer while it was wet, and how it framed his face. Even though one could also say he overall looked like a disgruntled wet jungle cat, he somehow pulled it off.

Noticing her silence, Ben looked back at her, frowning. “What is it?”

Tempted to speak her thoughts aloud, instead she shook her head, biting down hard on her bottom lip and turning away from him, venturing deeper into the treasure chest. “Let’s take a look around. I guarantee you’ll find something you like.”

The two explored the record store in silence for about half an hour, Rey once in a while holding something up to show Ben, and vice versa. Eventually, Chuck came out from storage to greet them, and Rey introduced him to Ben before the two finally found some treasures to buy. Chuck moved behind the register to ring them up for them.

Rey looked down at the tape he held in his hand. “You’re a Neil Young fan? No way.”

Ben peered at her and asked her curiously, “What kind of music did you think I listened to?”

“I don’t know.” Rey shrugged, realizing that in all the times they had driven in his car together, he had never been playing music. She didn’t know why, but up until now, she had taken him to be an NPR, AM radio sort of person. At further prompting by his gaze, she threw out, “Classical music?”

“You think I’m a bore,” he accused lightly.

“Not a bore,” she said defensively. “Never a bore. Just…serious.”

Before Ben could respond to that, although Rey had no clue what he would have said, Chuck said from the register to her, “What’d you find this time?”

She turned, setting down the record she’d had hugged against her chest onto the counter. “’Sally Can’t Dance’. I told you I’m starting my Lou Reed collection, didn’t I?”

Chuck nodded in recollection. “That’s right, you did tell me that. You had just finished your Pink Floyd collection the last time you came in.” He took the money she handed him, and as he gave her change, he said, pointing at her proudly. “You’re gonna love that one. One of Lou’s best.”

When Ben stepped up to the register next to buy his tape, he asked Chuck, “Do you take Visa?”

“Sure do,” Chuck said, taking the small plastic card from him.

“Ben,” Rey said, “Do you even have a tape player to play that on?” She was positive that all of his technology was fresh and new and up to date. He didn’t even have a place in his car to play CDs—just a touch screen with apps and Wi-Fi to use to connect to satellite radio.

As he gave his signature for his card, Rey thought she could see a small smirk on his lips. “I’ll buy one.”

Chuckling wryly, she rolled her eyes. “Of course you will.”

 

#

 

Ben had been hesitant about going back out into the storm—his hair and t-shirt had only just dried. Rey’s hair had mostly dried, but her clothes stayed soaked through, including her shoes—they would surely be sopping wet and weighing her down like anchors for the rest of the day. So the two waited under the awning of the front door of the store, waiting to see if the rain would clear or if they would have to sprint back to his car.

And as they waited in close quarters, the sound of the rain pelting against concrete and thunder rumbling echoing off the brick, the silence brought forth a thought that had been bothering Rey for some time. So she spoke up. “Ben?”

Turning his eyes away from the wet world beyond their shelter, he looked at her for a moment before saying, “Yes, Rey?”

She hated beating around the bush, so she got straight to it. “Remember when you told me you push people away from you out of self preservation?”

Ben tried to keep his face neutral, but there was a slight twitch under his left eye that immediately gave him away. “Yes, I remember that,” he said. “And why are you bringing that up?” Rey knew it bothered him, but she had to tell him this.

He was so easy to read sometimes. His eyes gave everything away.

“I’m only bringing it up to let you know that you won’t have to anymore.” It came out in a rush. Rey held her breath afterward. Their eyes locked.

Ben seemed to hold his breath too, if only for a few moments. “What do you mean?” His voice deepened.

“It’s easy to keep people out. I know that better than anyone. But you don’t have to be afraid of me, Ben.” She maintained her eyes on his. “I would never take advantage of you. I know that some people do that to you, and that’s why you keep your distance from others, so you won’t get hurt, and I don’t blame you for that. But you don’t have to be suspicious of me. I just like being around you. Just you being yourself is enough for me.”

Ben was so still that it was like he had turned to stone.

“I will always be honest with you, and I would never treat you like garbage. So don’t you dare push me away.” Breaking her solemn expression, Rey grinned. Small and assuring. “Okay?”

She waited for his response for several moments. He defrosted, blinking and taking a deep breath. His poker face was on in full force now, purposely, because Rey had dug in too close, and now he was nearly impossible to read. What a contradiction he was. “Okay,” he answered. His voice faltered.

“Promise me,” said Rey, staring him down.

“…I promise.” There was no conviction there.

Rey turned up her chin at him, folding her arms. “Pinky promise me.”

Ben sighed, and some humanity returned to his features. “Must I?”

“You must,” she insisted. “It’s the only legitimate form of promise. It’s more binding than a handshake.” She held out her hand, pinky out toward him. “C’mon. Meet me halfway.”

He looked down at her hand, dry at first, then something shifted behind his gaze. Lifting his hand to meet hers, he met her eyes again as he slowly curled his pinky around hers—it dwarfed hers in size. She squeezed his pinky, waving their hands back and forth in the air as she grinned, trying her best to ignore the way that her pulse stuttered. “That’s more like it,” she said.

A few minutes later, the pouring of the rain became a lighter sprinkle, and the two finally ventured out of their shelter to head back to his car. And just as they made it there, and Ben walked around to the driver’s side, Rey called out to him, “Hang on!”

And he watched as she ran full speed into a nearby monster puddle, the biggest yet, and jumped into it with triumph, soaking her shoes all over again.

 

#

 

As the two drove back toward Bay Ridge, on the way, she pointed out another place as they passed it—her Brazilian Jiu Jitsu place.

“I’m a black belt, naturally,” she informed him with pride. He looked impressed.

Soon, sooner than the both of them had hoped for, Ben dropped her off at her apartment—though not before walking her up to her door like a gentleman. When they reached her floor, Ben bristled. “It’s so hot up here. Even hotter than it was outside earlier. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

Shrugging and fanning her face with her hand, she said, nonchalant, “You get used to it.”

And once again, they shared a reluctant parting complete with stalling, standing feet from each other and lingering gazes where either one didn’t want to say goodbye.

 

#

 

During the following workweek, a particularly merciless heatwave hit the New York City area. It was the kind of heat that made it _impossible_ to exist without eating as much ice cream as possible. So on Wednesday evening, Rey and all of her friends met up in Williamsburg to gather over pricey artisanal ice cream at Van Leeuwen Artisan Ice Cream.

The place was crowded—so crowded that the line hung out of the doors and trickled down the sidewalk for at least a block. After Rey, Finn, Rose and Poe waited in line for forty-five minutes, a wait that felt more like a century out in the evening heat, they finally reached the counter inside, ordering their coveted icy treats. Rey got a double scoop of peanut butter marshmallow crunch in a waffle cone with hot fudge, Poe getting a similar order but with coffee ice cream instead, and both Rose and Finn got milkshakes, earl grey and mint chip respectively. And then seeing the completely full wood barstools and booths, the friends went for a stroll through the neighborhood instead.

And as they strolled and told each other about they work week so far, the subject took an abrupt turn when Rose said, “So, Rey. How’s your zillionaire CEO friend? Or should I say _boyfriend?_ ”

Finn and Poe chorused in ‘ooh’s, and Rey rolled her eyes, groaning. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she said. She wasn’t sure if it was from the humid heat or not, but her face burned. “It isn’t even like that. We aren’t even dating. There’s not even a reason for you guys to meet him.”

Poe took a big bite of his ice cream and Rey cringed. She never could understand how he could just _bite_ into ice cream like that. It was like his teeth were made of steel. “You’ve been hanging out with him for like a month, now,” he said between bites, talking with his mouth full. “You never see any guy for that long.”

“Gee, thanks,” Rey said, leveling a scowl at him.

“I’m just saying!” Poe shrugged his shoulders, taking a step back from her before she decided to take a swing at him. Wise decision. “By now you usually lose interest. There must be something different about this one. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Yeah, he’s super rich,” Finn said before taking a long sip of his milkshake. Poe guffawed. Rose choked on her shake, turning her face away when Rey glared at her, too.

“Guys, stop. It’s not like that.” Rey was positive that she was blushing now. It had spread down her collarbone and up to the tips of her ears. “There’s no _interest._ We’re just friends.” She pointed at Finn. “And I _don_ _’t_ care that he’s rich. To me he’s just Ben.”

“Friends. Right,” Rose said skeptically. “So that’s why you’ve been spending every single weekend together? And talking on the phone every day?”

Rey stared down at her ice cream, taking a long lick. “Yeah,” she said finally. “So what? I do that with you guys, too.”

“You’ve been hanging out with him more than you usually hang out with us,” Finn pointed out. “And you _never_ call me. Sometimes you disappear for so long that I get worried.”

A pang of guilt hit Rey’s chest. Her voice quieted. “I don’t mean to.”

“I know you don’t, Rey.” Finn assured her, then he shook his head. “That’s just how you are. And we don’t hold it against you. But it’s just that kind of thing that makes it obvious that you and this dude aren’t just friends.”

Rey didn’t answer for about a minute, absorbing his words that she knew deep down were the truth. Finally, she shrugged again, and said somewhat feebly, “Think what you want.”

The group strolled further through Williamsburg. The warm night was full of life, the streets full of people who escaped their hot apartments and brownstones for the increasingly cooling night air and the company of their neighbors, kids having water gun fights on sidewalks and twenty somethings drinking cold beers and eating popsicles on their stoops and lawn chairs.

“So, what’s he like?” Rose asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence within the group. “What does he dress like? Does he wear designer stuff all the time?”

“I’m not answering that,” Rey replied, mostly because she had no idea. If she had to guess, probably yes. Considering he dry cleaned his clothes. But she wouldn’t tell _them_ that.

“How many cars does he have?” Poe asked.

Rey answered, “I don’t know,” because truthfully, she didn’t know. She’d only seen the one, but there was undoubtedly more.

“Does he have ten houses?” Finn asked.

Rose asked with barely hidden disgust, “I bet he has more than one phone. He does, doesn’t he?”

“I bet he’s rich enough to own a horse,” Poe said, eyes wide in excitement. “Does he own a horse?”

“ _What?_ ” Rey interjected with a bark of laughter.

“Poe, don't be ridiculous. Why would he have a horse when he could have ten houses?” Finn said to Poe. “Or a private jet! Or ten private jets!” He turned back to Rey. “Does he go to Tokyo for business trips? Or Paris? Rome?”

Her friends continued firing off questions which grew in ridiculousness, and Rey continued to eat her ice cream and laugh at them. And later, when the found family parted ways with promises to text, Rey took a bus ride back to Bay Ridge.

In front of her apartment door, there sat a shipping box, waiting there for her.

She was surprised to see it there—usually the landlord just left packages in front of the mail boxes downstairs in the lobby. She double-checked the label, and it indeed had her name on it. She couldn’t recognize the address it had come from, but it looked like some corporation or store of some kind.

Bringing it inside with her, she opened it up with some scissors, and just inside was a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, she read the typeface there:

 

‘ ** _For your livelihood and well-being. -B_** ’

 

Her pulse leapt into high gear. This was from Ben? She tore into the bubble wrap and packing foam, finding another box inside of the box, and she pulled it out.

A portable air conditioning unit.

Staring down at the package with a joy so potent, she couldn’t bury or stifle the reaction she had next, and she didn’t want to.

She smiled. Then she laughed with delight inside of her empty, hot apartment, which would be too-hot no longer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK!!
> 
> ...Again.
> 
> This was a much longer hiatus this time, wasn't it? Phew. But I come bearing a gift! 
> 
> First: A playlist! I usually make playlists for my stories, and this one is no exception. This playlist has songs that inspired certain parts of the story, and it has a little bit of everything on it that I feel really embodies this story. I hope it's a fun soundtrack to listen to, I'll keep adding to it as the story goes on. For those of you that have Spotify, here it is: https://spoti.fi/2DL3eT2 (Now with a much prettier link that doesn't take up half the author's note.)
> 
> For those who don't have Spotify, hang tight! I'm working on a plain list version of it on my livejournal for you guys to see which songs are on there and listen to them using whichever other method works for you!
> 
> Sooo. I didn't forget about you guys, just had a humongous revision I had to complete for one of my original works. Craziest revision I've ever done. Don't want to do that again anytime soon!
> 
> In the meantime, I was still working on this story in teeny bits and pieces. This update was relatively short in length, at least compared to the last one, but the next update is near completion. So it'll be up much sooner! Maybe even quicker than you can blink! 
> 
> And uh, wink wink, it'll be well worth this wait that I put you all through. Pinky promise.
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for all of your support! It means way more than I could possibly express. Thank you, thank you, thank you all.


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dam breaks, and things between our CEO and Stoner abruptly switches gears.

_**part 5** _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just as he had done every day before, so many times that it could’ve been in the thousands, Ben Solo locked his office door for privacy, took a deep, steadying breath, and woke up his desktop computer.

He opened his email, and the painful folder remained where it was ever since he’d made it years ago. Password protected, and simply named ‘L’.

Hand trembling, he double clicked on it and entered the password.

And there she was, everywhere inside of that single folder that he’d made just for her. First he’d made it so that his email would automatically sort her emails out of his inbox, so that all of his business emails wouldn’t be cluttered with junk. Or what he’d told himself was junk.

But then the folder became a vice—a vice that he’d check multiple times a day, refreshing and refreshing until a new one showed up at the top. That was when he’d created the password lock, so that it would become more of an effort for him to check and he wouldn’t waste entire hours staring and waiting. But still, he checked it daily.

She didn’t send emails daily anymore. Nowadays he received them once a week at most. She’d been at it for so long, with no responses received, that she’d probably begun to lose hope. This woman, who was the most optimistic, hopeful person that he’d ever known, was losing faith in him. A true feat that he should feel ashamed of. If there was anything Ben had been good at all his life until now, it was his unrelenting talent for disappointing people. When he’d become CEO of his Kylo Enterprises, he’d promised himself that he would stop his own curse—his curse of being a disappointment.

As for disappointing his own estranged mother, that ship had long past, and it was too late to change that. But still, she had never given up on him entirely.

If Ben scrolled, he would see rows upon rows upon endless rows of her emails, some dating back to when he was in college ten years ago. He never deleted them, as much as he searched for the strength to.

But this time, Ben didn’t scroll. This time, he stared at the fresh, brand new email at the top. As always, there was no subject line.

He clicked, opening it.

 

‘ ** _From: leiaorgana@resist.org_**

**_To: bensolo@kyloent.com_ **

****

**_I went to the library today. Found some good reads. Saw a boy with a mop of hair checking out a big pile of books. It made me think of you, as always._ **

****

**_Still love you as much as the day I first looked into your eyes. Still miss you. My door is always open to you, Ben._ **

****

**_Remember to get enough sleep._ **

****

**_Love,_ **

**_Mom_** ’

 

Sharp pain burst in Ben’s chest at the sudden memory of a time long ago: Him sitting in his mother’s lap with a book open in front of them, engrossed as she read it to him and he imagined the worlds she described, star ships and heroes, princesses and aliens from faraway planets.

She’d planted so many fairy tales into his mind, so many fantasies, when he could have spent that time learning about the real world. If he had learned about the real world in the first place instead of learning to cling to such useless things as imagination and fictional worlds, growing into the adult he was now wouldn’t have been so painful. He would have been prepared for the things he would experience, the things he had seen and done to get to where he was now.

And maybe the real world wouldn’t have broken him.

As he always did, forcing the pain away until the familiar emptiness returned, Ben closed the email without responding. He didn’t delete it. Just simply let it float in its own limbo, in the state of having been read but never replied to.

Just like all the rest.

He sat at his desk for about an hour, stewing.

Normally, after having read one of Leia’s emails, his head and his heart would be a maelstrom of emotions that he couldn’t make sense of, that he didn’t want to name because that meant giving them power. He felt those things now, too. But they usually led to him hiding away the rest of the day, not talking to anyone else or snapping at anyone who tried.

This time was different.

This time he dialed the number that had become so familiar to him lately that it felt natural to dial.

And when Rey answered with her usual kind of witty, playful greeting, the hollow knot loosened inside him at the sound of her voice. Like a balm, the stinging was gone. In an instant.

This had never happened before. Ben had never known anything, any _one_ , who could produce this inside of him, who could immediately calm the hurricanes that raged inside of his head and heart. For he had thought that such a thing was a myth.

Really, that should have been indication enough—that Ben was about to lose all semblance of control, and that things between them were about to change. And quickly.

 

 

#

 

 

A few nights later, that Saturday, in a bar called Larry Lawrence, they were drinking craft beers and sitting on an uncomfortable minimalist wooden bench.

The lighting was dim, again. Even though Ben swore he would never look at Rey in dim lighting with alcohol in his system again. Especially after last time.

But it’s not as if he could help being here. Rey loved this weird hipster dive bar that had the name of a person and had a secret entrance. And she loved the people here. She loved this part of New York City, even with all of those people raising the cost of rent. She loved Brooklyn. Therefore, she liked a lot of weird shit.

There was a disproportionate amount of things that she liked. Things that made her happy. Like really, really simple things that shouldn’t normally make people happy. Like rainy weather. And street performers. And corny infomercials that only air at 3AM. And latte art. And having pancakes with wine.

Or maybe it was just that Ben was too jaded and bitter to enjoy simple things anymore. And maybe it was jealousy of this that kept him coming back to her, to watch her enjoy her surroundings and top her frozen yogurt with a million unnecessary, teeth rotting toppings and eat like a gremlin and watch as she constantly reached up to fix her strange three buns hairstyle. To watch as she had charged straight toward that humongous dirty puddle and laughed in delight at the water soaking her clothes and her shoes, which would have upset anyone else.

Or to watch her be embraced and accepted and loved by everyone that surrounded her, the same way that he wanted, deep down and secretly, so desperately to be accepted and loved.

Or maybe it was something else.

Maybe it was to watch as she smiled at him, her dimples appearing in her cheeks, and to absorb the feeling that rose up inside him as she beheld him—like she saw him, truly saw straight through to who he actually was, and accepted who she saw there.

All Ben knew was that he couldn’t stop himself from this any more than he could stop himself from watching her watch everyone around them, and then watch him in return over the rim of her beer glass.

And he didn’t want to fight this for one more second. He was tired of fighting and keeping this away, of rationalizing and hiding from himself.

Perhaps it was the fourth craft beer he drank telling him so, but something needed to be done about this. As soon as humanly possible.

Ben stood from the wooden bench and set his empty beer glass down on the weird skinny single wood plank table in front of them. “Come with me,” he said to her. He offered her his hand. 

Rey looked up at him, mildly surprised at his sudden movement. For a moment, it looked as if she were about to crack a joke or ask him why—then, seeing the solemn look on his face, her grin faded into a look of curiosity. Saying nothing, she downed the rest of her glass in a few gulps and set it down. She took his hand.

Leading them away from the bar crowd, Ben rounded the corner to the hallway that led to the bathrooms, closer quarters and exposed brick wall surrounding them. Eyes on them no longer. A small nook of privacy in this public place. Only a single dim lightbulb over their heads.

Her hand in his hand, he turned, faced her. Felt how close they were standing already but needing her closer to him.

“Rey.” His voice was low. He gently squeezed her hand, not letting go. Now that they were alone, he was losing his nerve. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to go about this? What was he even doing?

She squeezed his hand back, and his pulse jumped. Ben met her eyes again. She felt it too—this weight and tension in the space between them, gravity multiplied. She must have. He couldn’t be imagining it.

Her eyes, heavy-lidded and dark and intoxicated, drew him in. She closed the distance he had so wanted to close himself, stepping closer to him and looking up into his face. “Ben?”

The way she spoke his name was a tentative question. The way she held his eyes captive with hers was primal. Soft, her other hand lifted, her fingertips touching his chest. Her touch melted into him, into his burning chest and his singing veins. Without meaning to, his grip on her hand tightened like an anaconda.

Rey leaned up on her toes, face drawing toward his. Aching and slow. Then she hovered, still, as the very tip of his nose brushed her cheek. Her deliberate proximity was a dare—’ _kiss me_ ’. Shared oxygen, breathing in and out. Ben was powerless. He inhaled the scent of her, sweetness and nature and sunlight and his head swum.

Everything was heavy. A moment came, stayed, then left. Then he caved.

He needed this. Right now. He couldn’t wait another fraction of a second. And he didn’t care about any of those reasons that had kept him from this before—they didn’t matter. He was Ben fucking Solo. He could let himself have what he wanted, point blank. Logic and sense be damned. And he _wanted_ this. More than anything he had ever wanted before.

All at once, he tilted his head and swooped down to her, closing his eyes. Their lips grazed. Whole galaxies combusted behind his eyelids.

Consumed, instinct took over at the taste of her lips. Their kisses deepening, his arms closed around her. Her hands grabbed his face between them, coveting, fingers curling deeply into his hair and tangling. He mashed their bodies together, so close that not a wisp of air could escape between them. Their mouths collided again and again and again, their breath stolen. No one else existed there in this space and the world was dizzying heat.

Her nails raked his scalp and his hands smoothed down, hooking behind her thighs. He didn’t need to break away or take a breath to tell her—she placed her hands on his shoulders and jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist like a vice. Gripping, Ben swung them around, pinning her to the brick wall and holding her there with the press of his body. She groaned low in her throat, the sound buzzing through her lips against his. When he took his mouth away from hers, briefly sucking her bottom lip and releasing it, he kissed down her neck as her hands found his hair again, pulling, making Ben’s mind reel wildly.

“It’s about fucking time,” Rey said, her neck rumbling with the sound of her voice. Ben hummed, lavishing lighter kisses over her skin, sweet and salty with sweat, and then taking some between his teeth, rolling it lightly in a way that made her squirm against him and gasp. He nuzzled his nose bridge along her jawline, savoring every bit of the softness of her, and his lips returned to hers with greed.

There was a sense of slight release in this moment, but existing alongside two other things—frenzied anticipation, but also grudging awareness.

They were in public, and despite not hearing or seeing anyone else there, other people _were_ still there. People with smartphones that could post pictures online of Ben wherever he went. He was still a public figure, still a CEO. And she was still an Apple Store girl.

He had only just tasted her, and already he hungered for her in almost unimaginable ways, ways that he’d been denying himself of for too long. Now that he’d had just a taste of this, of what had been awaiting him all this time as he had complacently hovered in denial, he was absolutely losing his mind. He needed _more_. They both needed more than just this, beyond this kiss.

But not in this bar.

When his hands started to wander just a little, rising up from her waist just an inch or two, Rey returned slightly to her senses. Gentle, she pushed her palms against his cheeks, breaking away from him and pulling back. “Ben. Not here,” she said. Her voice was rough, her lips extra pink and swollen and beautiful. She shook her head, and the tip of her nose grazed the tip of his. She said again, whispering, “Not here.”

“Where,” Ben breathed. His mind was floating and his voice sounded like it did when he woke up in the morning.

“Not here,” Rey emphasized. Anywhere but here, he knew she meant. “Let’s leave.”

Knowing she was right, he nodded, coming slightly back to his senses and very carefully lowering her back to the ground. Her knees wobbled as her feet touched the ground, and he steadied her. He thought it reassuring that he wasn’t the only one shaken up by this.

It was unexpected—and also completely expected. Perhaps both of them thought this might happen between them eventually. Just not _now_. But now it was. And they needed to do something about it, and as soon as possible, before they could think too much, get too sober and let anything stand in their way.

The two left the bar. The night was warm. Deciding he could come back to it in the morning, and that it would make evading the paps easiest, he left his car in the nearby garage he had parked in. They hailed a cab, and when one stopped in front of them and they got inside, Rey told the cab driver her address. A starved man, Ben bent over and took her lips with his again.

The ride to her apartment was dark and hazy—they made out for most of it.

When the cab stopped and the cabbie had to raise his voice in order to get them to notice that they’d arrived to their destination, Ben handed him a fifty and the two stumbled out of the car. They were tipsy, but still lucid enough to make it up her building’s stairs. Rey did, however, drop her keys several times as she tried to unlock her front door while Ben kept bending down and kissing the side and nape of her neck.

They made it inside finally, and when the front door shut them inside her studio apartment, clothes began to shed and get thrown on top of furniture and on various places on the floor. The air conditioning unit he’d bought for her was already on, and it made her cramped space the perfect temperature. Finally.

When Ben helped her remove her shirt, he discovered three more tattoos—the small silhouette of an emperor penguin on her ribs just below her elbow, a wilted flower between her shoulder blades, and a line from a heart monitor screen across her heart. He didn’t dare to in this moment, but one day he would ask her about the meaning of her ink.

“Listen,” Ben said as he kneeled to untie Rey’s boots for her, “You need to know right now that I don’t do the whole commitment thing.”

“Neither do I.” She lifted her right foot for him as he pulled off her shoe, then yanked the sock off.

He pulled at the other shoe, and she reached down to his shoulder with one of her hands, balancing herself as she lifted her left foot for him. He yanked off that shoe and sock, too, then leaned down and pressed a quick kiss on her smooth shin before placing her leg back down.

He looked up again as he said, “I don’t do labels. Relationships aren’t my thing.” He reached up to her waist to tug down the waistline of her skirt, pulling it off over her legs. “Neither is catching feelings. Or anything complicated. I don’t have the time or the energy for anything complicated. This needs to be a no-strings sort of situation, or I’m done.”

He stared down at her exposed legs, then his eyes dragged upward, drinking in all of her exposed tanned skin, her slim, firm stomach and waist, and at the gray bra and underwear which were the only things that remained in his way. Exhaling, he could barely stop himself from groaning. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Likewise.” Rey tugged at the collar of his t-shirt, and he obediently lifted his arms as she pulled the garment off over his head, mussing his hair even more than she already had. She continued, “I smother easily. I can’t be tied down or I freak out.” He unsteadily stood up straight again, and her hands went straight to the button of his pants, hurriedly undoing it and reaching around his back to push them down.

“So we’re on the same page, then?” He asked, helping her remove his pants.

Her eyes were glued to his torso as she ran her hands across his chest. “I’d say so.”

The breath in his lungs heaved at the sensation of her fingertips against his bare skin, and his eyelids fluttered. “No strings,” he said again, just to be certain.

“No labels. Now shut up.” She reached up, grabbed his face and crashed her lips back onto his, and in that instant, his mind fell apart. He bent down and returned with hungry fervor, hands falling all over her taut body and touching her places he’d been wanting to for what had felt like centuries.

Ben had thought he could handle just being her friend. He thought he could handle just talking to her, and hanging out with her, and not touching her and not kissing her and keeping her at a safe distance away from him.

Ben had been kidding himself.

So, maybe this would be better. They could explore each other, hidden away from the world, and just _be_. They didn’t need to have any sort of label on what they were, what _this_ was between them. The label ‘friend’ was too constricting, and so far from what they were, he knew now. The word felt wrong. Without any such labels, they could do whatever they wanted to do without any pressure or obligation to one another.

And the undeniable truth, the truth that Ben had kept hidden away from himself for so long, was: He’d been craving Rey this way ever since she’d spilled wine all over him.

Unbidden, alcohol still swimming freely in their systems, the last barriers were ripped away and hot slick skin touched. Backing into and tumbling down onto Rey’s bed, Ben climbed on top of her and did what he’d wanted to do since he had laid eyes on her. And Rey did the same.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning, the air conditioner had shut itself off, and the air had returned to the kind of heat that the city had seen for the past few weeks—unrelenting, unbelievable heat. The sheets stuck to Rey’s whole body when she woke, even though she and Ben had slept on top of them.

She rolled over, unsticking herself from them, and looked beside her. He was still asleep. And still there. She had wholly expected him to sneak away in her sleep, leaving her with an empty apartment once again when she woke in the morning. But he hadn’t.

Last night had come as a surprise to them both—though nowhere near an unwelcome surprise. Deep down, though she hated admitting it, it had been something she’d been waiting for. It had just taken enough alcohol between the both of them to finally bring it to fruition. And she wasn’t going to lie: she could get used to the sight of Ben Solo in her bed.

They had received noise complaints from two different neighbors over the course of the night. Rey considered that a success.

He took up so much space in her bed—his limbs were so long, and he was stretched out across her queen sized mattress. She curled up on her side and stared at him quietly. At the moles on his face that she imagined she could play connect-the-dots with using her eyeliner pencil. She observed how long strands of his dark hair stuck and curled against his forehead when it was sweaty. At how the tips of his ears stuck out from his head. At how his large, long nose was slightly crooked, if she squinted. She liked that. And the heaviness of his eyebrows and near permanent grimace that the shape of his lips formed at rest, even in his sleep. She liked that, too. But it was even better when he was pretty close to almost smiling. She still hadn’t seen him smile yet.

She intended to.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teehee.
> 
> Surprise.
> 
> Okay, some of you might have noticed the chapter count change. From 7 total to 11 total! Because I have officially lost control. Ha. HAAA. This story just keeps expanding and expanding and it's not my fault. Damn you Ben Solo!! Hilarious how this originally was going to be a one shot. In what universe could I have done that? Can you believe the lie I told myself???
> 
> I've been sitting on this chapter for a while and I'm relieved that it's out in the world now. I actually wrote it a while ago, just took some time catching the rest of the story up to it! From here on, the story gets to flex its' true M rating. I hope the wait has been worth it! Though I guess it's not really a Slow Burn anymore, is it? Should I take that tag off?
> 
> Thank all of you once again for your amazing support! You guys are the best. I can only hope that my story can live up to your collective awesomeness. ♡♡♡


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our resident Stoner and CEO, with a newly minted friends-with-benefits deal, spend a day of summer outdoors fun with a wolf pack.

_**part 6** _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Think we’ll get arrested?” Rey’s smile, lascivious and entirely too wicked, only made Ben’s current predicament even more of a problem.

He bit down hard on his lip at the heat pooled in his gut. “Not if we don’t get caught,” he said, trying not to sound strained, or worse—like he was begging. Ben Solo certainly did not beg for things. He had too much pride, and too big of an ego. And he wasn’t about to start, not even for this woman who had rapidly become an addiction for him, to his detriment. “So let’s not get caught. You know a thing or two about that, don’t you?”

“Are you calling me a delinquent?”

“Yes.” Ben lifted an eyebrow, glancing out the window behind her head yet again. He was just glad his windows were tinted dark as they were, so that on the off chance a wanderer in this parking garage were to walk past, they wouldn’t be seen inside, doing things that were frowned upon doing in public. Especially with the ever-present paparazzi being a constant obstacle.

“If you didn’t want us to get caught, we probably should have initiated this second round before we left my place.”

Ben suddenly couldn’t remember why they would do such a ludicrous thing as leaving her apartment. Or her bed. “Why did we leave your apartment, again?”

“I told my friends days ago that I would meet them today, and you wanted to join me last minute. This was _your_ idea,” Rey reminded him. “Now, are we doing this, or what?”

Instead of answering, Ben pressed his mouth against hers again. To say it was cramped with the both of them in the backseat of his car was an understatement—Ben’s back had to hunch even horizontally, and there was virtually no space at all for his legs to fit anywhere.

The two shifted around as they shoved articles of clothing out of the way, bumping heads and noses and accidentally elbowing each other a few times before finally settling into a position that worked well for both of them: Rey straddling his lap with her head on his shoulder, with Ben sitting, arms firmly around her and keeping her in place.

Then movement, and the air inside the luxury car steadily increased in temperature with each rock of their hips. Slowly at first, then building with need and desperation. Hitched breathing became panting, and when Rey’s back arched, Ben pressed deeper, his hands squeezing her waist so tight he could make an imprint of his fingers on her skin.

Things blurred and melted. Names were murmured, sweat dripped.

Draped in heat, blinded, Rey gasped, a violent tremor running through her. Then she dipped her head down and bit down on Ben’s shoulder, _hard_. The sensation sent Ben catapulting through space and time, his head falling back and his mouth falling open in a silent cry. A low groan exited his throat instead, and Rey panted on his shoulder.

They both sat there for a minute or so, limp and spent, coming back down to Earth again.

Catching her breath, Rey tumbled off his lap and pulled her skirt back down. She settled into the seat next to his with a big sigh and a wide grin, pushing her sweat soaked hair off the back of her neck. For once, she was only wearing it half up today. “Damn, you really love it when I do that.”

Between breaths, Ben zipped his pants back up as he muttered, “It hurts.”

“Yeah,” Rey said, lifting a smug eyebrow. “And you’re into it. Guess it’s your fetish. No judgment.”

Ben didn’t know what to say to that, but he hoped his entire face being red was only a product of what they just did, and not damning evidence of a part of himself he hadn’t known about.

Swiftly, he changed the subject. “So, does this little meeting with these friends of yours matter so much, or could we just call and say something came up?”

Rey shot him a disapproving look, and immediately he’d known he’d made a misstep. “Of course it matters to me. My friends and I make this trip several times each summer, and we’ve only been there once this year, which is tragic. And furthermore, I haven’t seen my friends in almost two weeks.”

“Two weeks is nothing in the grand scheme of things.”

“Yeah, well. So are a lot of things.” Rey punctuated her point by opening the back seat door, shutting the door before Ben could ask what she’d meant by that. Then she reentered the car at the passenger’s door, sitting down and then turning to Ben with an expectant look. “Now, come on. Or we’ll be late.”

Ben sat in the back for just a moment or two more, defeated, then he exited the backseat as well, getting back into the car and settling heavily into the driver’s seat. He muttered as he turned the key in the ignition, starting the engine back up again, “You will be the death of me.”

Rey regarded him with an impish innocence, only compounding his point. She didn’t say anything more until they had already left the parking garage, driving toward their destination. Her voice was soft. "New York City is a lonely place, Ben. Everyone needs a wolf pack to take refuge in.” She reached over, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “And I found mine."

Try as he might, he couldn’t help the way his annoyance and nerves quelled at the touch of her hand. He glanced at her, and she was already staring at him, waiting for a response. Ben wasn’t sure about the idea of a so-called ‘wolf pack’—he didn’t even have friends, let alone one of those. But he couldn’t help but feel curious about the idea. What was so great about this group of people that Rey regarded so highly?

Ben sighed, but nodded, and Rey smiled. “You’ll like them,” she reassured him. “Trust me.”

 

#

 

Thankfully their destination was only a 15 minute’s drive from Bay Ridge, and traffic was relatively decent—and soon they arrived on Ocean Parkway of Coney Island.

Finding a space to park was challenging, but not impossible. Rey waited patiently for Ben to don his sunglasses and hat to disguise his face, as usual, though she mentioned to him dryly that she didn’t think paparazzi resided on Coney Island for any reason. He hoped that she was right, but still—everyone would be wearing sunglasses here, and it would help him blend in even more from the gazes of any curious, smart-phone wielding onlookers.

The two exited the car. “Where will we meet your friends?”

“Rose said they’d meet us on the boardwalk on this end, near Surf Avenue,” said Rey, donning her own sunglasses. The lenses were huge, perfectly circular ones that shielded practically half her face from the sun, though he’d seen her slather sunscreen on before they’d left. “We should see them soon.”

They made their way onto the boardwalk, and it was packed and busy with bodies as well as the roar of voices from every conceivable angle. The scent of sunscreen was pungent, as well as the smell of sweat, beer, barbecue, and hot dogs. The overwhelming sensory experience was just as Ben had pictured it, only worse. Immediately, he was vastly out of his element in a place like this. He tried his best not to let it show on his face, grateful for the reflective glasses shielding his eyes.

“Rey!” The sound of Rey’s name came from several different voices at once, from a single direction.

Rey and Ben swiveled around, looking, Rey on her tip toes, trying to see over the crowd. With a marked height advantage, Ben spotted the small group of people shouting Rey’s name much quicker. “There,” he said pointing so Rey could see. “This way.”

She grabbed his hand and began pushing through the crowd in the direction he’d pointed in, swerving around people of all age, gender and race. Finally, the throng thinned, then opened, revealing a group of 20 somethings who collectively brightened at the sight of Rey. Ben vaguely remembered seeing Rey with them at his party a couple of months ago.

“Hey, there she is!” yelled one of them, a man who was average height, with olive skin and dark eyes and dark, curly hair. His brow and jaw were strong. “We were hoping our shrimp didn’t get swallowed up and carried away in this crazy crowd.”

“I’m not a shrimp, Poe,” she bit back good naturedly, letting go of Ben’s hand and rushing forward to swing her fist into the guy’s arm. He ducked away before it could connect, and the both of them laughed. “This crowd is insane, though. We should’ve come earlier.”

“And miss the street performers? No way,” said the other man. He was about the same height as the other guy, but his skin was deep umber and his face was friendly. He met Rey in a big hug, which she reciprocated with warmth.

Ben looked away from them before even the thought of jealousy could enter his mind, and his eyes landed directly on the third member of the group, who was already looking at him in curiosity. Her skin was warm tawny, and her eyes were dark and monolidded, with a short bob framing her face.

Before he could manage to greet her first, remembering his manners, she beat him to it. “You’re Ben, I presume?” She lifted an eyebrow, examining him already, and immediately he knew that she wouldn’t warm up to him easily. He would have to be on extra good behavior around all of them, but _especially_ her.

He forced a smile, feeling foreign inside of his own skin, and stuck out his hand toward her. Before he could think otherwise, his normal business greeting automatically burst from his mouth. “Ben Solo, CEO of Kylo Enterprises. Pleasure to meet you.”

Immediately he wished he would fall through a hole in the boardwalk, or that a freak tidal wave would wash ashore and sweep him away into the Atlantic ocean. Why would he introduce himself with his business greeting? This wasn’t a business meeting, it was a casual setting. Now they would probably think him stuck up, or boring. Maybe he _was_ stuck up and boring. This was humiliating. He fought to keep the embarrassment off his face.

She didn’t seem to mind that much, however, meeting his hand with hers and shaking it. “Good to meet you, Ben. Rose Tico, engineer.” She only slightly smirked as she’d said it.

Now he had both of the men’s attention, and they sized him up the way Rose had, times a million. Poe launched himself at him first, aggressively taking his hand. “Poe Dameron, professional racer.” So this was the race car driver Rey had mentioned before. Poe didn’t let go of his hand after they shook, only tightened his grip as he asked, tone laced with judgment and the warning that his entire impression of Ben hung in the balance of the answer of this question, “What do you drive?”

“2017 Bentley,” Ben answered immediately, not backing down from the challenge. “And a fully restored antique Rolls Royce. Both black.”

Poe froze, stunned at his answer. Then his face defrosted into a grin, resuming shaking his hand. “Impressive. My baby at home is a 2017 Lambo Huracan. Custom orange and white paint job—they’re my racing colors. I call him Beebee.” Suddenly he released Ben’s hand, reaching for his pocket. “Let me show you pics of him! A got a ton of ‘em on my phone.”

Before Ben could even think of how to respond to that influx of information, the other guy extended his hand out toward him. “Call me Finn. I’m a middle school teacher.” Finn frowned at him like he was trying to figure him out. His face was very expressive, and Ben didn’t doubt it was easy to read him like a book, which was the opposite of what Ben tried to be.

Ben gave him a cordial nod. “A pleasure, Finn.”

“So,” Rey clapped her hands together eagerly, as ready as Ben for this introduction session to be done with. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“We thought we’d grab something to eat and head over to the Scream Zone,” Rose said.

“No Scream Zone,” Finn said immediately. “Not after eating. We gotta go on the Wonder Wheel.”

“I say we go to the aquarium,” offered Poe, for the moment abandoning his search for his phone. Rey, Rose and Finn groaned in dissent. Poe threw his hands into the air. “What? I wanna see the sharks!”

“Scream Zone!” Rose said again.

“Where are we eating?” Rey asked the group, interrupting an oncoming argument. “I’m starving.”

“We gotta go to Nathan’s. We can’t come to Coney Island without eating at Nathan’s,” said Finn.

“Too far. And it’ll be packed,” Rose said. “What about Ruby’s? It’s closer, and their food is just as good.”

“I have to get some pizza from Totonno’s into my belly or I will die,” Poe said, talking over Rose. The entire group groaned in disagreement at his suggestion again. Again, Poe asked them in defense, “ _What?_ ”

“Totonno’s is too far,” Rey argued, placing both hands on top of her head in exasperation. “God, I’m starving.”

“Okay, okay,” Rose said, raising both her hands along with the volume of her voice, speaking over everybody. “We’re all hungry. Let’s just go to Nathan’s, their service is fast. The wait in line is the least amount of time and we can all eat before we turn on each other like _Lord of the Flies_.”

The group began to walk in what direction Ben assumed the restaurant in question was, but Rey paused, turning to look at him over her shoulder. “Hot dogs good with you?” she asked.

Ben had been silently watching this groups’ dynamic from what felt like a distant observation spot, feeling altogether alien. It was beginning to be clear now what Rey had meant by calling them her ‘wolf pack’—there was something each member of the group brought to the table, filling what the others lacked, and their individual energy fed off of and complimented one another perfectly, like the separate pieces of a puzzle making something whole. Ben didn’t belong in such a group, or in such a place.

He barely belonged in his own life, let alone this one with foreign sights and raucous smells and language. This place was nothing like the Hamptons, which he highly preferred as a New York summer vacation spot. Particularly in his own summer house, with his own private beach. This was not the Hamptons. This was anarchy. What the hell was he doing here?

After forcing his head to nod, Rey reached back toward him, taking his hand in hers once again—her fingers wound around his tightly, squeezing, grounding him. She stared up at him, searching. Reading him as usual. “Hey,” she said. Her voice was so low, only he could hear. He met her eyes. A soft smile played on her lips. “You’re doing good. Don’t worry.”

Exhaling, suddenly Ben remembered. This. Her.

She was why he was here. And for some unknowable reason that Ben couldn’t and wouldn’t put words to, her presence, her hand inside his, made him feel like he could do anything, _be anyone_ , for her.

Even if that meant eating Coney Island swill, riding thousand-year-old amusement rides, and being around two million and three shouting adults and children. Even if that meant tolerating the antics of her friends for a time, entertaining their questions and listening to their stories. If it would make her happy, he would do it.

For her, he would do it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I heard she took you to Owl’s Head Park,” Finn said to Ben around his bite of hot dog. “My sincerest condolences about her dismal taste in public parks.”

The wait inside Nathan’s Famous, one of the pinnacles of the Coney Island experience, wasn’t nearly as long as any of them thought it would be. Now they were sitting at one of the many concrete tables gathered outside of the restaurant under a tiny umbrella that didn’t block out nearly enough of the sun beating down, chowing down on their meals.

“Excuse me? ‘Taste in parks’ is not even a thing,” Rey protested after chewing a handful of fries. And she resented the very suggestion that there was anything wrong with her favorite park in Brooklyn. Ben hadn’t seemed that impressed with it, but then again, he wasn’t often impressed by things, at least not outwardly.

“It _is_ a thing,” replied Finn. “And if your taste was better, you would’ve brought him to Prospect Park. Am I right, Rose?”

“Agreed,” said Rose. “Prospect is iconic. Owl’s Head sucks, Rey. It’s just an overblown patch of grass. No one even goes there except for you and elderly people.”

“It is quite literally impossible for a park to suck. All it requires is wide open skies, great views, and great greenery. Owl’s Head is quiet, peaceful. What are you guys, the Roger Ebert of park critics?” Rey turned to Ben again. “I apologize for my friends’ ridiculous, pointless anecdotes about my Brooklyn tour. I assure you that I’m right, and that they’ve collectively lost their minds.”

Ben stopped picking at his corn dog with his fork—plain, aligning perfectly with his usual tastes in things—to glance up at Rey. “I rather liked it. I like my parks on the quiet side as well. The less people there the better.”

Finn sighed, dissatisfied, and Rey turned to her friends again with a gloating expression. “See. I _told_ you. Ben likes my park.”

“From what we’ve heard, that’s not the only thing of yours he likes,” Rose said under her breath. Rey gasped and tossed a fry stub at her, and it connected with Rose’s earlobe as she laughed. She threw back an onion ring, and Rey deflected it with her hand.

Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Poe leaned over to Ben with his smartphone, scrolling through his phone gallery with the screen shoved in Ben’s face. “This is Beebee. This when I took pics of him when it was sunny. This is when I took pics of him when it was cloudy. Paintjob looks different in indirect sunlight. This is Beebee in the parking garage. This is Beebee in the snow. This is—whoop, sorry, that was the model I was seeing for a few weeks. She does H&M ads. She sent me that. Nice, right?”

Ben didn’t answer, sensing the trap, staring at the phone screen blankly.

Rey’s interruption was swift. “Poe, for the love of god, put your phone away before I clock you.”

“What’d I do?” Poe barked back in his abrupt way, shrugging in his own perceived innocence.

“Phone. Away,” Rey said through her teeth, angling a look at him that dared him to defy her.

Her pig-headed friend finally obliged, leaning away from Ben and pocketing the phone again as he grumbled and went back to devouring his chili dog, to the amusement of Finn and Rose and to the noticeable relief of Ben Solo.

 

 

 

#

 

 

 

After the group was finished eating, they returned to the boardwalk and made the short walk down to Luna Park.

This area of Coney Island had a spectacular view of the adjacent, sprawling beach full of sunbathing bodies on towels, people-watchers under big, colorful umbrellas, and waders in the shallow, gently curling waters. But Luna Park was even more packed than the other areas, full of enthusiastic amusement-seekers of all ages, many holding waffle cones full of gelato from Coney’s. Rey felt at home here, having come here multiple times every summer with her friends. The aromas of salty sea air, fresh funnel cakes, popcorn and cotton candy were the harbingers of her summers.

Ben Solo, however, had become increasingly, visibly uncomfortable as the crowds thickened.

And now, completely surrounded by loudness and revelry, he had never looked so completely out of place. _Ben Solo_ —the man that’d had 30 ice sculptures, a DJ, a band, and New York Ballet dancers at his fancy schmancy party, which now felt like about a million years ago even though it had only been a couple of months. Though come to think of it, Rey thought, he’d looked pretty out of place at his own party as well. So much that it was easy to see why she’d thought him another guest, or another party crasher. He’d looked displeased enough, at least.

“So, Ben,” Rey said, turning to her tall, quiet, dark-clothed companion and breaking the comfortable silence. “What sort of amusement park rides are you partial to?”

Ben released a hardly held-back sigh. “I wouldn’t know how to answer that question,” he finally answered after a long, pensive pause.

Rey frowned. “What do you mean?”

Shaking his head, Ben gestured around them. “I’ve never been to a place like this.”

In her shock, Rey stumbled. Ben offered a big hand to steady her, but she ignored it, continuing their almost meditative stroll along the boardwalk. Poe, Rose and Finn had left them to go stand in the long line for the LUNA 360, a ride that spun around and flung riders upside down at the same time. Ben hadn’t seemed so keen on riding that one, and so Rey decided to hang back with him and find something else to do. And so they had continued to walk, taking in the sights around them in silence.

And now Rey knew exactly why he had looked so uncomfortable at the thought of riding the daredevil ride in the Scream Zone.

“You’ve never been to an amusement park?” she asked, aghast.

Ben was alarmingly casual about it. “Nor a carnival, nor a state fair, or any of those things,” he said.

“Not even as a kid?”

“Nope. Never in my entire life.”

“Why not?” Rey couldn’t fathom this.

As a child, Rey had always dreamed of having fun at an amusement park. Because of her circumstances growing up, she never did. So she made up for it now, going to Luna Park and carnivals and fairs as often as she could—even sometimes taking vacation days from work just to go. Had she had a regular family, and a regular family with money, as she assumed Ben had, she would’ve had a childhood full of wonderful memories—including going to amusement parks. But she didn’t. So she made all the memories now, with her found family.

“My parents never had the time to take me to such things,” Ben finally said, interrupting her internal ruminations. “They were always too busy. I’m an only child, and I had no cousins to do things like that with.”

Rey shook her head, her forehead wrinkling in disbelief. “But you grew up with money. Didn’t you?”

Ben quirked a dry eyebrow. “My parents were firm believers of money not being everything.”

“And what do you believe? About money.” She knew she’d regret asking, but she couldn’t help it. She had to know.

Ben chuckled without any humor—a scoff without a smirk alongside it. “What does it look like?”

Rey examined him for a few moments. “A CEO of a multi-million dollar company is what it looks like.”

“Precisely.”

She sighed. Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, realizing that money was something they were never going to see eye-to-eye on, she changed the subject back to the previous one. “Anyway. As for my personal amusement park favorites, I err on the side of the adrenaline junkie ones rather than the swirly ones.”

Ben seemed mildly intrigued. “Care to give me examples?”

“Rollercoasters mainly. The Cyclone, of course. The wooden coaster, a Coney Island classic,” said Rey.

“If you say so.”

Rey ticked off the next ones on her fingers. “Steeplechase, the coaster where you sit on horses like on a carousel, totally one-of-a-kind, at least in New York state. The Soarin’ Eagle, the one where you lie down, although I always get bruises on my hips from the turns. The Tickler is the coaster _with_ spinning, and it’s wicked as hell. The Thunderbolt is the newest, and it’s craziest drop is the second tallest thing in the entire park. Then, the Sling Shot, which isn’t a coaster, but worth mentioning anyway.”

“What kind of ride is it, then?” he asked.

“You sit down in this, like, metal cage the shape of a ball,” said Rey, demonstrating the shape of the cage by squatting down and spreading her arms wide. “They strap into these seats inside, and they bolt the cage shut. And then this machine _flings_ the cage into the air! But it’s perfectly safe, because the cage is attached to these two long elastic ropes. It’s like a crazier version of bungee jumping.” She wasn’t entirely certain she’d explained it well—she’d made it sound much more insane than it actually was, she could tell by the way Ben’s gait had stiffened.

Ben obviously tried to keep palpable disturbance out of his blank one word answer—however, his face under his sunglasses and hat was more pallid than usual. “Pass.”

“There’s also the arcade, if you’re not in the mood for any of the rides.” Rey attempted a look of unassuming innocence as she continued. “Of course, the arcade is usually packed full of kids. Which means it’s pretty dirty there. And loud. You know how kids like to scream all the time, and the walls of the place almost seem to amplify all of the voices like a cave. And it’s sticky in there, _always_ sticky. Which attracts bees, inevitably. Like a moth to a flame. I mean, you can tell that the staff tries their best to keep all the games clean, but they can only do so much to combat all the dirty, sticky cotton candy hands touching all the buttons, and all the germs when they sneeze without covering their mouths—”

Ben cut her off before she could go on, the words coming out in a rush just to get her to stop. “The Cyclone it is, then.”

Rey stopped directly in front of Ben, turning to face him with a huge smile of accomplishment. “Oh? Well, if you insist.”

“Have you ever considered becoming a lawyer?” Ben lowered his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, just enough for her to see his withering glare. “Your negotiation skills are unparalleled.”

She shrugged, grabbing one of his hands, turning and leading him in the direction of the wooden roller coaster as she said, “No courtroom could handle me.”

 

 

 

#

 

 

 

After riding The Cyclone—which Ben had a blast on, she _knew_ it, even though he refused to say it—they met back up with the rest of the gang for some rigged chance games.

Pyramid Smash was first, the game where they had to knock over 6 metal tin cans stacked into a pyramid shape with two tennis balls. Or try to, at least. If they weren’t welded together, as Finn had always suspected and muttered to Rey as they approached the booth. Ben obviously hadn’t wanted to hang behind Rose and Poe at the basketball toss booth, so he tagged along to the pyramid game.

Finn went first, and as usual, failed miserably at it. His aim was dismal—he missed the stack by wide margins _both times_. When he asked the booth runner for another round, he missed the first toss of that one, too.

Rey cried out in frustration. “Finn, follow through! That’s why you keep missing. You’re not following through!”

“Okay, okay!” Finn bit back. “Stop yellin’ at me!”

“I’m not yelling,” Rey said immediately, lowering the volume of her voice. “I’m encouraging you.”

“Loudly,” retorted Finn.

“I’m not being loud.”

“You’re always loud.”

“Could we hurry it up, here?” The booth runner interrupted, putting a hand on her hip and shifting her weight. “There’s folks behind you guys, you know.”

Rey smiled at her. “Sorry.” Then she roughly elbowed Finn in the side. “Go, already. So I can have my turn. And follow through.”

“Sheesh, all right!” Finn said. Grasping his last tennis ball in both hands, he turned perpendicular to his target. Squaring his shoulders, he grasped the ball in his throwing hand, reared back, and threw—bending forward with his arm following through the throw. The ball soared, hit the lower right can of the pyramid—but it barely budged. The whole stack merely shuddered, but didn’t fall or collapse.

“Oh, come on!” Finn cried. He pointed to the can he’d hit. “It moved! I saw it move! That’s gotta count for something, right?”

The booth runner laughed a raspy, smoke damaged laugh. “Sorry kid. You gotta knock the whole thing off the shelf for a prize. Better luck next time.” She turned from Finn’s incredulous face to Rey’s smug one. “You next, girlie?”

Rey stepped up to the table next. “You bet your pretty face I am.”

The booth lady smirked, shaking her head and pushing two tennis balls over to Rey. “Good luck, hon.”

Taking a deep breath, Rey angled herself perpendicular, just as unlucky Finn had done. She was certain she’d fare better than he did. She swung her hand back and then forward, throwing, following through—only to have the ball thunk off the middle bottom can.

“ _Hah!_ ” Finn laughed behind her, and she whirled to glare at him. For good measure, she angled the glare to Ben as well, who was watching this unfold quietly but who, Rey swore, had the dimmest shadow of laughter pass over his face.

“All right, all right,” she said, if only to quiet the sound of Finn’s laughter. “I have one more. Silence, please.”

“You’re not gonna get it,” Finn sang under his breath.

“Shut it, Finn.” Rey straightened once again, fixing her angle, then looking down at her feet and making sure they were shoulder width apart. She squared her shoulders, reared back, and threw this ball even harder than the last. It struck true in the middle of the stack, felling the top three cans. But the bottom three remained where they were, infuriatingly staying exactly where they were. Impenetrable, like statues.

The crowd that formed behind them let out noises of sympathy and frustration for Rey. She frantically pointed at the fallen cans on the ground. “I got half! Which means I half won! Tell me that gets me something,” she pleaded the booth runner. “Half a prize, maybe? I’ll even take a leg from one of those giant teddy bears! The big green one, right there. Just rip it off, I don’t mind.”

Booth Lady was unyielding, shaking her head once again, unimpressed with her joke. “Sorry, girlie.” She took a breath, about to say something else.

Rey interrupted, “Don’t say it, I beg of you.”

“Better luck next time.”

“Dammit, you said it,” Rey muttered, dejectedly turning on her heel. She sighed heavily. “Let’s go find Rose and Poe, guys.” The three of them fell into step, beginning to walk away from the booth.

“I don’t get what the big deal is,” Ben said, speaking up for the first time during this entire failed attempt at a prize. “It’s just a cheap stuffed animal. You can buy those pretty much anywhere. It doesn’t even have that much value. Not for the amount of money you have to spend to win one. Hell, I bet you could find the same one online.”

Rey understood that, in his own Ben Solo way, these were meant as encouraging words. But they bothered her precisely _because_ he didn’t understand the point of the game. “That’s not the point, Ben,” she said, folding her arms, feeling somewhat ridiculous for feeling as disappointed as she did for losing. “I’ve played this game every single time I’ve come here, and every time I lose. I know it’s stupid, and doesn’t matter. I know it’s just a glorified claw game, but it gets the best of me every time. It’s impossible to win, and that’s what gets me crawling back to it. Both of us,” she added, elbowing Finn again, softer this time. “God damn it. I just want that giant green teddy bear. I’d sell my soul for it.”

Finn elbowed her back, offering her a grin. “You’d sell your soul for a good burger.”

Rey cracked a half-hearted smile. “True.”

“Hey,” Finn encouraged, “We’ll hack it one day.”

“If you become miraculously better at throwing,” Rey teased him with a snort. She looked back up to where Ben stood—or to where he _had_ been standing, and was there no longer. Alarmed, her eyes searched the crowds of people around them, calling out, “Ben?”

The only answer that came was the sound of several cans crashing down from behind them. Started, Finn and Rey spun around, and were met with a sight that shocked them both. They beheld Ben Solo standing at the booth, half the cans before him toppled onto the ground. And before they could even speak a word, Ben chucked his second ball at the remaining two cans on the shelf with a perfect curve-ball, sending it tumbling down.

The crowd around them cheered and applauded as Booth Lady rung a big bell behind the booth, announcing him as winner.

“How?” Finn shrieked, jaw dropped in disbelief. “How?!”

Calmly, Ben turned to him, pointing at one of the intact tin can pyramids that his had stood next to, explaining matter-of-factly, “Basic science. You have to topple one of the side cans on the bottom. They hold the weight and balance of the ones on the top. Then you just get rid of the last two.”

Rey laughed in part disbelief and part shock at Ben instantly being able to figure out what neither of them had managed to put together for years. Finn just stood there staring at the cans on the ground, shell shocked.

“Pick a prize, good-lookin’,” Booth Lady drawled.

Ben pointed. “That one.”

Booth Lady took down the big, hanging stuffed animal he’d requested—the giant lime green one. The one that Rey had wanted. She handed him the prize, then Ben walked over to Rey, handing the huge thing to Rey without a word.

Rey grasped the teddy as he handed it to her, hands squeezing the green velvety material with languish. She hardly knew what to say—the words stuck in her throat at first. Then finally, as they both followed after Finn, weaving through the press of people back to where Poe and Rose were, the question made its’ way out of her. “Why’d you do that?”

At the question, Ben’s adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, avoiding her gaze. “You just…” he began trailing off. Rey stared at him, silently willing him to finish his answer. Under the heat of her gaze, he gave in, saying with something akin to a shrug, “You looked sad.” Pause. “And you deserved to win that ridiculous thing.”

Rey beamed at him, and she was positive that was the reason Ben kept avoiding looking at her. And she surely wasn’t imagining the flush in his cheeks that spread back to the tips of his ears.

Finn reconnected back with Rose several feet in front of them, Poe complaining about too-small basketball baskets beside them, and with their last moments of relative privacy for the moment, Ben asked her, “Do you at least have a place to put it?”

Rey hugged the bear to her torso, barely able to even see over the top of its’ head. “I know exactly where I’ll put it.”

Ben took a quick glance at her over the frames of his sunglasses, sidelong. Skeptical, like he didn’t believe she could possibly have space in her tiny apartment for such a large creature of polyester and synthetic filling. “If you say so,” he replied finally.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After a few more rides—including the Brooklyn Flyer, the Coney Island Hang Glider, Astro Tower, and on Poe’s insistence, the go-karts—and a shared serving of deep fried Oreos, which Ben Solo seemed surprised and disturbed to admit that he liked, the sun had begun to set on Coney Island, and the gang had decided to call it a successful day.

Rey exchanged hugs with Rose, Finn and then Poe, saying goodbye to all of them at once. The CEO apparently had an important meeting in the morning, and he had to get going.

“It’s been fun, Ben,” Rose said with a grin. She was shocked to discover that the staunch CEO, who she hadn’t been sure of at first, had grown on her. Especially when she’d seen that big green teddy bear that Rey had been wanting for ages, and seeing the way that he acted around her. “Glad we finally got to meet you.”

Ben dipped his head cordially, once again impossible to read. “Likewise, Rose. It’s…been a pleasure.” Again, impossible to read into. What was that pause about? Was he just being polite? Or was that his way of saying that he hoped he never saw their faces again?

Rose resisted the urge to sigh. Awkward and stuffy as he was, Rey sure did like him. She practically had stars in her eyes whenever she looked at him. And as happy as his presence seemed to make her, Rose couldn’t help but notice that Rey seemed to do the same for him, though he tried to hide it. But he had come all this way with her, just to spend time with all of her friends. Ben Solo was a frog in a tepid pot of water.

“See you guys later,” Rey said over her shoulder as she and Ben parted from their group, making their way to wherever Mr. CEO had his fancy, expensive car parked.

Rose, Finn, and Poe called out their goodbyes to their retreating backs, waving as Rey waved back and Ben offered them a polite nod of acknowledgment. Then, with her hulking green bear perched upon her shoulders like a giant child, the two walked away together, closely and with their footfalls in sync. What remained of the group watched them leave in silence.

Then, with a sigh, Finn stepped up behind Rose, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin in the crook of her shoulder. “So, what do we think?” he inquired.

“She’s smitten,” said Rose. She chuckled, shaking her head. “And he’s screwed.”

“He better not be an idiot and hurt her,” Poe said. He lifted his hands together, loudly cracking his knuckles. “Or else I’m gonna have to kick his ass.”

“Me too,” piped in Finn.

Rose laughed, tossing her head back onto Finn’s shoulder and reaching up with a hand to gently pat his cheek. “We’ll see about that.” Poe was also snickering to himself, hiding it behind a fist, his shoulders shaking.

Finn was indignant. “What’s so funny? I could take him.”

She kissed his cheek, electing to say instead of a true answer,  “I love you, dummy.” From behind them, Poe made a theatrical gagging noise in pretend disgust.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Early the next morning, Sunday morning, he knocked at Rey’s door.

At first concerned that she might be asleep, he didn’t have to wait long for her to open the door after all. With dripping, loose hair, and a glowing humid flush, she’d clearly just gotten out of the shower. She’d donned her only robe, her green one with hemp leaves embroidered all over it, the one she’d told him once that Rose had given her last Christmas.

She gasped in surprise and delight at the sight of him.

“Good morning,” Ben said to her, deep down nearly delighted that he’d surprised _her_ for once, instead of the other way around.

“Morning,” she said, grinning. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a meeting.”

“I do,” Ben answered, lifting a brown paper bag in his hand. “But I thought you might like some breakfast.”

“Breakfast? What?” Rey opened the door further, letting him in. He was already fully dressed for the day, in black business-casual. “Wait, who let you in?”

“One of your neighbors. An old lady. She saw me in the lobby the last time I was here.” Ben handed her the paper bag.

“Oh, Mrs. Khan.” Shutting her front door, Rey took the bag, expression caught between happiness and guilt. “You didn’t have to bring me anything,” she said.

Ben waved her off, saying nothing, only anticipating her reaction but trying not to look eager about it. He leaned against the wall behind him with one shoulder.

Rey opened the bag, looked down into it, and gasped. “You _didn’t_.” She looked back up at him, eyes wide with excitement. “It’s napoleon. From my Greek place?”

“Mmhmm,” Ben responded.

She stared down into the bag again, reaching inside with one of her hands and opening the plastic box inside. “But it’s not my birthday.” She looked up at him once more, startled. “Is it _your_ birthday?”

“No,” said Ben. “I just thought you should get to have some of that more than once a year, is all.”

One of her eyebrows lifted. Then a smile grew slowly on her lips, mischievous and knowing. “You’re so fucking whipped.”

He shifted his weight, mouth working, unable to bring himself argue with what she’d said. No matter how embarrassing it was to hear it aloud, he was starting to think that this was the truth. That Rey had him wrapped around her finger, and there was nothing that he could do about it.

At his visible embarrassment, Rey laughed. She lifted her fingers out of the box, licking off the custard she’d swiped from the desert. “Oh god, so good,” she said. She walked past him to her tiny kitchen table, setting the bag down, lifting out the box and tearing into it with her bare hands.

Ben opened up her kitchenette drawers until he found her utensils, taking out a fork and bringing it over to her, muttering, “At least use a fork.”

Reaching over her shoulder and grabbing the fork with her already sticky fingers, she cut off a big bite and wolfed it into her mouth at once. Then with a groan, she threw her head back, chewing largely. “God, you’re about to get so laid,” she said with a full mouth.

Watching her enjoy this piece of dessert, one that she so loved, enough to reserve money for it for her birthday every year, something very small and very quiet stirred inside of Ben. It was sweet, a small tickle. Something like pleasure, something like pride, something like accomplishment and like addiction all at once. He suddenly found himself fighting the strange urge to smile, and to laugh—a feeling that always persisted around her and never went away, no matter how much he resisted it.

So this time he didn’t—at least not completely. His lips curved ever so slightly as he watched her, and she went on eating voraciously, preoccupied and not noticing. Then the moment passed. He forced the smile to fade, not allowing it to overstay its’ welcome before she saw and would surely take notice and tease him about it for days afterward.

He turned his back to her, walking toward her bed as he reached down and unbuttoned his black shirt. “Let me know when you’re done,” he said, removing the garment and tossing onto the foot of her bed as he lay across it. “My meeting’s in two hours, so I’d like to make this quick.”

Rey hmmed. “Someone missed sleeping in my bed last night.”

“I…didn’t.”

“I told you that you could spend the night instead of going all the way home,” Rey insisted.

“I couldn’t,” Ben said, as unyielding as he’d been the night before at her door, refusing any invitations to come in. “I needed my clothes for the meeting.”

“But now you’re back here anyway. So.” When Ben slowly turned his head to look at her, she was smug, lifting both of her eyebrows. She was right, and he couldn’t even deny it. Again.

“…Yes,” he relinquished reluctantly. “It appears that way.” He had tried to go _one night_ without falling asleep in her bed, tried to resist her just once, and look where it had landed him. Trying to squeeze in a quickie, before a major work meeting. He was sick. _She_ was making him sick.

This time, Rey said nothing. Just smiled coyly, chewed another bite of Napoleon, and untied the front of her robe with one hand as she held his gaze, the sides dropping open and exposing a thin, lacy black bra and matching panties.

Ben inhaled shakily, eyes raking over her form and swallowing hard. This view was excruciating and amazing all at once. Indeed, Rey was a fever that Ben Solo just couldn’t sweat out.

Still holding his stare, Rey lifted an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

“Not at all,” Ben said, voice catching. Rey’s eyes suddenly, pointedly, dropped to between his legs where a noticeable… _tent_ had formed. Ben snatched one of her pillows, hurriedly covering it—but she’d already seen it. She threw her head back and laughed, then closed the pastry box and stuck it into her refrigerator. Then she sauntered across the floor toward him on her bed, shimmying the robe off her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor.

As Rey crawled toward him across her rumpled bedspread, her hair dripped droplets of water onto his nice, dry cleaned black pants. He didn’t care. “You didn’t finish eating,” he rumbled.

She shrugged. “The rest of it can wait.” Then she climbed into his lap, moving away the pillow, grabbed his face in her hands and pounced. And her mouth tasted like sweet cream and pastry crust.

 

 

#

 

 

Ben should’ve known to stay away. He should’ve gone straight to his meeting, without making a completely-out-of-the-way stop in Bay Ridge. He should’ve known better than to get this taste of her before seeing such an important investor. That it would lead to him just staying in her bed, and making excuses to remain there with her and not wanting to leave.

He should’ve stayed away. But Ben had finally figured out that it was impossible to stay away from Rey.

Maintaining his eyes on her, he took out his phone, dialing a number. When the person on the other end of the line answered his call, he spoke before he could think twice and come to his senses. “Hux? Reschedule my meeting with Mr. Snoke. Something has come up. Today doesn’t work for me.” Steeling himself to the sound of Hux’s sneering, incredulous response, he replied, voice even, “Just schedule it for his next available day. Get it done.”

Then he hung up, tossing his phone away. And he continued to watch _Game of Thrones_ with Rey in her bed, the images of feuding royalty and knights and dragons streaming at them through the surrounding darkness, her small television cradled between the legs and arms of a certain huge green teddy bear.

She was right, after all. There was a place for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, you guys. Its felt like a million years since my last update. But I'm back with an update just in time for the holidays. Happy Holidays everyone!! 
> 
> (Also, happy 1 year to TLJ! Has it seriously been a year since it came out? Time flies. I owe it to TLJ for transforming me from casual SW fan to full-blown Reylo stan. Bless. Fingers crossed we get a teaser trailer for IX soon!)
> 
> This chapter existed in limbo for a little while, and the first draft of it just didn't sit well with me for some reason. There were parts that I didn't like, and I wanted to fix it before it was ready for you guys. Then, right at the end of NaNoWriMo, I got a burst of inspiration, and bing bang boom, it was finally ready!
> 
> Sorry about not getting to respond to comments last time y'all, unfortunately my original novels got the better of me for a bit and stole all my time and attention away, as well as things in my work life and personal life.  
> But for the rest of the year, and the next couple of months, I should have lots of extra time to write for leisure. So hopefully there won't be any more big hiatuses anytime soon!
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this one. In case you want to take a break from listening to holiday music, there's 5 new songs on the BB playlist! 
> 
> Thank you, as always, for your love and support. It means everything. ♡♡♡♡♡♡
> 
> See you in the new year!


	7. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a close call, our CEO resolves to play it safer, and our Stoner shows him how to loosen up a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Recreational drug use.

_**part 7** _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As he stared at the images on his phone, overcome with a low-simmering dread that Ben was certain had endless depths, Rey leaned over him as she put her clothes back on. “What’s that?” she asked.

Ben lowered his phone, blinking down at the paparazzi image of him standing next to Rey at Coney Island, whose face was just shrouded enough not to be recognizable—but only barely. His screen was dark enough that he was sure she hadn’t seen it from her angle. He locked his phone’s screen, making it black, tossing it onto her bedside table. “Just something an employee sent me,” he said as flatly as possible, trying to keep any hints of disturbance out of his voice. “Work things.”

More accurately, it had been from Hux, sent in an email, from a TMZ article. ‘ **Who’s Ben Solo’s Mystery Lady?** ’ the article title had read. In Hux’s email, the only thing the irritating ginger had written was: ‘ **Watch yourself. You have a reputation to uphold, and a business empire to run. Sir.** ’

“Oh, okay,” Rey replied flippantly, beginning to draw some of her hair up into a half-up style as she wandered over to her open bathroom door, standing in front of the mirror. “Your sunburn still looks pretty bad. You sure you don’t want me to pick you up anything from the bodega? Some aloe, maybe?”

Ben’s brain was spinning so severely that it took him a few moments to register what she’d asked him. “No, I’m fine.”

“All right, cool,” she said, putting some cash into a pocket in her cross-body leather satchel and giving him a grin as she made her way to the front door across her studio. “Be back in ten.”

When she’d left, locking her door from the other side, Ben waited until he heard the sound of her footsteps fade down the hallway. Then he grabbed his phone again, opening the email and TMZ page again, his eyes scanning it quickly.

Her name wasn’t mentioned anywhere. And whoever had sold the pictures to the website hadn’t managed to get any direct pictures of Rey’s face, only Finn and Poe’s faces. There was no denying it was him in the pictures, though—he had very foolishly taken his sunglasses off for a few minutes that entire day, and that was all it took. It was very clearly his face, even shaded under the brim of his hat. Even his pale exposed arms were indicative of his identity, which there was still evidence left from—the skin on his arms was red and peeling with itchy, stinging sunburn.

But Rey had not been identified. They hadn’t been caught yet.

They were safe. For now.

But it was only a matter of time, now that the media knew he was involved with someone. They would stop at nothing to find them now.

Ben placed his phone down again, his face dropping down into his hands. This had been too close. He’d been letting his guard down, practically playing games with his reputation and career. And now Hux had something to dangle over his head, which was even worse. He’d been trying for years to keep several steps ahead of his asshole assistant, and now he’d caught him slipping.

They would have to be even more careful now. Stricter rules. No public outings during the day. And no more outings to crowded places, especially, day or night. This would have to be as low-key as possible from now on. No more risks.

No more risks, or he would risk losing everything to this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
#

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
The next two weeks were a blur. Ben and Rey, Rey and Ben. Not just on weekends anymore. Every afternoon and evening, they spent together.

Late night movies, the emptiest screenings, with Rey yelling things back at the screen and laughing too loudly. Late fast food drive-thru runs in Bay Ridge, with Rey digging into the bag of fries before they could get cold, eating them and feeding them one-by-one to Ben as he drove. Stolen quick makeouts inside his Bentley or in dark back corners of the theater, ones where Rey’s dark lipstick ended up smeared around her lips in a way that stirred a frenzy inside Ben. All the while, repeating their mutual mantra to one another: ‘No strings, no labels.’

She didn’t question why he wore sunglasses and hats even at night now, and why he asked her to wear them, and he was grateful to be free of having to explain because he knew how it might sound—like he was ashamed of being seen with her, or something akin to that.

He was protecting both of them, he told himself. Especially her. The moment paparazzi found out about them, she would never have peace again. She would never have her regular life again. Her whole life would be ruined, and because of him. He couldn’t let them find her.

So he maintained his new rules, being extra careful, and when they weren’t going out at night, they spent all their time inside her tiny apartment.

One might think it stifling, but somehow it wasn’t. Though they never spoke it aloud, though it was dangerous, their nights belonged to one another. That was where Ben Solo’s determination to stay away from risk failed. It was valiant, really—his thinking that keeping their meetings to nighttime would solve things. But not so.

Alas, like trying to sweat out a fever, it would only worsen their condition before it would improve.

Within their nights was their own small, secluded world, where none of the problems of the real world could touch them. Together, alone, there was an understanding. And a certain kind of freedom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
Rey didn't know when it had happened, but slowly, over time, Ben Solo's visits to her little corner of Bay Ridge had become such a regular, everyday occurrence that it had become natural—as had the way he had taken over her mind and occupied her every thought.

Before she had realized it, he had fully infiltrated her life. And not with force, not with a violent burst, but with a whisper and the softest touch of his hand.

She had become accustomed to seeing him fold his long legs and bend his long torso over to fit into her corner wicker chair. She'd gotten used to how he had to stoop all the way over, the hulking giant that he was, to see everything inside of her refrigerator. She'd come to like how she had to fold her own arms and legs around his if she wanted to stretch out in her own bed when he was in it—and how, in his asleep state, he would often accommodate her size to his own and curl his form around hers in an almost protective cocoon.

It had become so natural and expected to see him around her apartment that when he wasn't there it felt like something was missing. Like something among her thrifted collections and her treasures and oddities had gone missing.

Normally, Rey would have run away by now.

Just as she was good at, she would have set fire to her own life and severed the connection before it had come this far. She would have become a ghost, never being heard from again from the person she wanted to leave behind, because that was what she did. And she was the best at that. A pro, really.

Only, this time felt different. She didn’t want to leave Ben behind. And she didn’t want to run away.

The space he occupied in her apartment and inside of her chest had grown to be so large that she had begun to forget what those places looked like without him there. And so she let it grow, and grow, and grow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
Ben didn’t know when it had become so easy for him to become so irresponsible.

No, actually, he did know. He knew _exactly_ when it happened. It had started the moment Rey had Trojan Horsed through his fortress walls and tossed red wine onto him.

And what had started as scratching an itch, per se, had long transformed into something much different. He found himself leaving work earlier and earlier during the day, leaving the bulk of the work up to Hux, other than the required meetings and emails.

He’d practically been slacking off these days, and he barely recognized himself, warring with the guilt of knowing that his grandfather would have never approved of this behavior. He’d been starting to act—universe forbid—like his slacker criminal father. He knew it, and yet he couldn’t help it. There was the main thing contributing to this, after all: her. He had spent a couple of months with this free-spirited stoner and suddenly he was forgetting who he was supposed to be. He was becoming reckless.

He knew it. But he couldn’t stop it.

And the truth was, maybe he didn’t entirely _want_ to stop it.

Daily morning phone calls to her had become routine to him as well—so routine that his day would feel off, wrong, without hearing her voice. He had become used to the long drive from Manhattan to Bay Ridge, not even minding all of the traffic that much, knowing what awaited him on the other side of it. And once he had crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, arrived to where she was and was soon greeted with her smile, he could barely remember a time in his life when he hadn’t seen her.

Being around Rey felt more natural now than not being around Rey. Like a sunflower to the sun, his daily life had not just shifted to fit her inside, it had _become_ her. And he couldn’t remember what maneuvering through the dark, cold tunnels of his world had even been like before.

So, like a snake warming its’ muscles and skin and blood in the rays of the sunlight above ground, he shut his eyes to danger and consequence. And he remained.

 

 

 

 

 

  
#

 

 

 

 

 

  
“Now, we’re going to take this slow. I’m responsible for you, and I don’t want this first experience of yours to be a bad one. But just know that if it goes badly, I’ll take care of you until it passes. You’re with a pro, here.” Sitting down next to him on the edge of the bed, Rey held up her prized bong with both hands, already fully prepared for what they were about to do. Ben had watched her grind stuff up, and pour water into the bong, and it looked like some sort of twisted science experiment.

This was such a bad idea. This was the worst idea ever.

Why did Ben agree to this when Rey suggested it? He had lost his mind, full stop. This was crazy. _She_ was crazy. But _he_ was the craziest for agreeing to try something like this, like some 15-year-old giving into peer pressure at a high school party. Which Ben had never gotten invited to, anyway.

“I’ll start it. Watch how I do it,” Rey said. Ben nodded, and then she picked up the lime green lighter, putting her mouth in the open top of the bong. The way she did it, lighting the thing and then creating a vacuum inside so the smoke flowed upward, was so complicated that Ben was hardly sure of what he was even watching her do. She stopped lighting it and put the lighter down. Then, when the whole glass tube had filled with cloudy smoke, she inhaled deeply, held it for just a few seconds, then tipped her head all the way back and blew the smoke out and away. Watching the smoke leave her lips was hypnotizing.

She clapped her hand over the tube, keeping the rest of the smoke inside. “Your turn. I’ll hold it for you. Now, take a deep breath of clean air first,” she instructed. She stood up from the bed so that she was standing on the floor in front of him, her legs wedged between his knees.

He did as she told him.

“Good.” She turned the bong toward him, still keeping her hand over the top. “Now, put your whole mouth on it and inhale. Be careful, not too much. Just a small one, don’t overdo it. Slowly. I don’t want you to choke on it.”

“Slow like how?” he asked.

“Just drag it slowly, just a sip. Don’t gulp it. I’m going to take my hand off of it. Ready?”

Ben nodded. She took her hand off, tipping the blown glass tube toward his face. He put the opening around his mouth, just like she’d said, and tentatively inhaled. “Right, like that,” she encouraged softly. “Not too much. That’s it. Now hold it. Really let the good stuff get into your bloodstream. Good, good.” She suddenly took the tube away from his mouth, clapping her palm over the opening again. “Okay, now blow it out.”

He did just that, along with an involuntary round of coughing. He coughed hard.

“Sorry, I should have warned you that you’d cough. All newbies do, don’t worry.”

Ben kept coughing, and then when he was finally done, the strangest sensation began to spread through his body. “Holy shit. What is that?”

Rey cackled, throwing her head back and all. “I know,” she said. “It’s good, right?”

“Really good.”

“You wanna go again?” she asked. He nodded, eager. “Okay. Pace yourself. You’re a newborn at this so you gotta take your time.” She tipped the opening to him again, taking her hand away and letting him take more of the hit, and it was smoother this time. Less coughing. Sweeter.

He blew the smoke out again. “I think I get why you’re a stoner now.”

Rey laughed again, then went back in for more herself, lighting it again the way she did before.

Fifteen minutes later, Rey and Ben lay in the middle of her apartment on her shag orange rug. Upside down, Rey’s head rested on Ben’s shoulder, and his head rested on her shoulder. They stared up at the ceiling, arms and legs spread out, surrounded by vapors. A Neil Young vinyl blared from Rey’s record player.

Though it had only been fifteen minutes, it felt as if time had slowed and stretched and become endless. Ben’s fingers wound into the soft shag of the rug. He let the sounds of Neil’s guitar and rough vocals enfold his head inside of them, felt the air fill his lungs like he had never felt before. It was like he’d been drowning, and was taking his first blessed gulps of oxygen—the air was almost sweet. His skin tingled with a sensation he didn’t even have words for.

He didn’t know weed felt like this. He didn’t know he could ever feel like this.

Suddenly, staring at the apartment surrounding them, he had a real appreciation for everything in a way he hadn’t before.

He liked the colorful rugs, they were perfect for lying down on. He liked the classic rock posters that crowded each other, and also liked that they were each framed, because then it was still organized. He liked the tapestries hanging on the walls that he’d thought were tacky before. How could he have not _truly_ seen them before? All the different colors and patterns blended together in a way that was actually complementary—the suns and the elephants and the paisley and the swirls. Different, but also the same. Similar in their untamed appearances. And he liked the seashell chandeliers, and all the leafy plants and cactus, and all the dried flowers hanging from the ceiling, even though before he’d thought them crazy looking bug magnets.

All the things in her studio apartment were different but went together in their diversity. Controlled chaos. Just like her and her life.

“Incredible,” he was saying before he even realized it.

“I know, I know,” answered Rey. She paused, then laughed and said, “Wait. What is? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She kept laughing.

Ben paused for a long time, trying to remember what he’d just been thinking. He’d already forgotten. The delicious sound of her laugh dragging through his ears had distracted him. “I don’t know. I forgot.”

This made Rey laugh even more. Then she dissolved into uncontrollable giggles.

“What?” Ben asked. Normally he would’ve snapped the question or said it in a dry tone, but now it only drawled out of him with leisure. It was like he was no longer capable of being short or annoyed. He should definitely do this more often, he thought. His everyday life would probably be much less taxing.

“I just remembered,” she said between gasping laughs, “that cat video I showed you yesterday!”

Ben squinted up at the ceiling. “Which one? You show me so many cat videos.”

“The one,” she paused, laughing too hard to continue for a few moments, “the one of the cat that leaped off the top of the refrigerator onto that guy’s head!” She burst into another round of laughs, laughs that were so hard that her whole body curled up into a ball as she rolled away and shrieked into her hands.

Ben couldn’t help but watch, amused, sitting up and leaning back on his elbows. He watched her laugh this way for a whole minute before he finally said, “It wasn’t _that_ funny. Cats are weird.”

Rey’s hands dropped from her face, and it was beet red. Finally, laughter fading, she rebutted as she also sat up and leaned back on her elbows, “Cats are _amazing_. They’re sentient creatures with their own personalities, just like us. Even the ancient Egyptians worshiped them. One day they’re going to take over the world. And I will gladly live under our furry overlords. Well, them and the robots. Poe wants a robot, did I tell you that? He wants one as soon as companion robots become mainstream in the future. He’ll probably name that one Beebee, too. And paint it orange.”

He shook his head, his eyebrows lifting. “Actually, forget what I said. _You’re_ weird.” He stopped. His voice lowered to a rumble. “I like it.”

“Thank you, so do I,” said Rey without a drop of irony, and she pushed up from the ground and stood up, hustling over to her record player. “I’m putting on something else. What do you want to listen to?”

“What do you have?”

Rey leafed through one of her stacks of records. “Sufjan Stevens, The Shins. I have all of my rare jazz collection, if you’re into that. I also have Pink Floyd, Lou Reed. The Beatles. Fleetwood Mac.”

“Yes.”

“Yes to what?”

Ben paused. “Uh. What were the last two?”

“Wait, hold on, I forgot,” Rey said.

“So did I,” Ben said.

“Hang on, hang on, hang on. Beatles? Fleetwood Mac?”

“Yes. And yes.”

“Which one first?”

Ben groaned, flopping back down onto the rug. “You choose, I can’t think.” He had never felt so enlightened and so stupid at the exact same time.

“Beatles it is.” Rey flipped a record onto her player, and ‘Dreams’ by Fleetwood Mac began to play.

Ben snorted. “I thought you said The Beatles.”

“I changed my mind!” Rey exclaimed, then started to dance in a massively unrestrained manner, with lots of spinning wildly and whipping her hair and waving her arms, which made Ben dizzy to watch. She shouted, “I love this song!”

“I can tell,” he commented from his spot on the floor, which he was sure he had somehow become cemented to. _Maybe I might lay here forever,_ he thought _. Become part of her floorboards. Then I would never have to leave this place again._ Ben imagined himself melting into the floor and staying there.

After some time of watching her dance—Ben had no idea how long, time didn’t make sense anymore—Rey suddenly kneeled down on the floor next to him, leaning over him and snapping him out of his trance-like stupor. A different song was playing now. Actually, a different record was playing altogether, and Rey’s face was flushed red again with exertion and joy. “Ben, dance with me.”

“I can’t move my legs and arms, Rey. They weigh a thousand pounds. Also, I can’t dance.”

“Of course you can move them. That’s the weed talking.” She tugged one of his arms up from the ground, waving it around in his face, and he looked on in amazement. “It’s just us. You don’t have to be embarrassed. Come on! Get up! Dance with me! Please?”

“I can’t.”

“Pretty please?”

Suddenly the song changed. Paul McCartney had joined their small space, and he sang the opening lines of ‘Hey Jude’.

Rey’s disposition instantly changed—from excitement to spellbound, gentle delight. “This is my favorite Beatles song. I have to dance to this one.” She looked down at him again. “Please, Ben. Dance with me.”

It was slow, and it was soft. A slow dance kind of song. They shouldn’t slow dance. That was for couples. And they weren’t a couple. They weren’t anything. But the way she was looking at him made it impossible to say no to this. “Okay,” Ben said before he could even register the word forming on his lips.

Slowly, he got up from his spot on the floor. Turns out he _could_ move. He stood, and Rey took his hand, pulling him over to the side of the studio with the most room.

Before he could even take her hand and waist in the formal slow dancing form, she wrapped her arms around his torso like a hug. She pressed herself against him, lying the side of her face against his chest and closing her eyes. Only hesitating for a beat or two, Ben carefully folded his arms around her shoulders. They began to sway.

Paul sang away, telling him not to be afraid, and to let her into his heart. It was like he was there with them, singing into Ben’s ear. Paul implored him, again and again, to let her get under his skin, with Rey’s arms wrapped around him. Like a challenge.

Rey was lost in her own world, and Ben had never been so exposed in his life.

The song and dance seemed to last forever. But when it finally ended, Rey changed records again, and the muted voice of Bob Dylan surrounded them instead.

She sat on the edge of her bed, and Ben sat on the floor in front of her. Her legs resting over either of his shoulders, he let her gently comb and braid dried flowers into his hair. He only agreed because she promised she would take them out for him later, and because the sweet lull of the weed in his system made him powerless to resist.

Rey worked in meditative silence for a few moments, only speaking up to apologize for the snags she ran through with her comb. Eventually, she broke the quiet with a random question, as she always did. "Do you sometimes think about stuff that could be possible?"

Ben frowned, tilting his face back slightly. "Like what?"

"Like....reincarnation." She picked up a few more dried flowers from the pile she’d collected from her ceiling. They were soft looking white ones, and small.

Ben scoffed. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because that's ridiculous."

"It's not ridiculous,” Rey argued. “Be a little more open-minded, Ben. There are many religions and philosophies based on it. Millions of people believe in it. I think it’s got merit. Entire groups of people that have memories and visions of past lives, things that they have never experienced before.” Before Ben could respond to any of this, Rey took a deep breath and kept going. Stoned Rey was certainly chattier than usual. “Sometimes I think about important people in the past that could be important people now. I think Edgar Allan Poe reincarnated as Stephen King."

Ben didn’t even try to disguise the snort that left him. "What? Why?"

"Yeah. So that he could keep writing and unleashing his genius into the masses. Just in terrifying novels instead of poems and mystery stories. I think important artists are the ones who come back the most, so that they can keep creating wonderful things for the world. Over and over again."

"You're an enigma, Rey."

“Look who’s talking, Ben.”

He rolled his eyes. Fair enough. “What else do you believe in, then?”

“Lots of things. Even impossible things. In _Through the Looking Glass_ by Lewis Carroll, the White Queen tells Alice that she believes in as many as six impossible things before breakfast. It’s one of my favorite books. Believing in things gives me something to hold on to, every single day. Even when I feel hopeless, there’s something for me to touch and taste and have faith in. Even when I don’t have faith in myself.” Rey paused. Her tone was quieter when she said, “Maybe that doesn’t make sense. I don’t know.”

“No,” Ben said, shaking his head. He was glad that she couldn’t see the look on his face, which he couldn’t actually _feel_ anymore but he was certain that the awe inside of him was written all over it. “That actually made perfect sense to me.”

Rey stalled his movement, placing a firm hand under his chin. “Stop moving, you’re making me mess up. Don’t you want to look pretty?”

Ben nearly leaned into her touch before she took her hand away, bringing it back to her braiding work, and he could barely find the sense to be embarrassed by the need. It was just the weed making him think such things, after all. Certainly, it was. “If I recall correctly, _you_ wanted me to look pretty.”

“Oh, yeah. But you’re already pretty. I’m just enhancing it.”

“Well, thanks.”

Rey kept working, and eventually finished her masterpiece. She brought him to the mirror to show him, and though he had beheld the admittedly well-executed hairstyle with bewilderment, he didn’t ask her to take it out yet. Instead, the two took another hit from the bong, with more Bob Dylan softly droning in the background.

Sooner than the two of them even realized, it was late—1 in the morning. They had both begun to drift off lying on the floor together, and clearly, it was time for sleep. Rey got up to turn off the music, and Ben gave her a hand as they climbed onto her bed together.

She reached up behind her head to undo her buns and let down her hair, but her fingers fumbled in her state, unable to do it.

“Come here,” Ben said to her, gesturing for her to turn her back to him. “I’ll do it.”

She turned her back to him, and Ben scooted closer, cradling her inside the nest of his legs as he gently untied each elastic from all three of her buns. He ran his fingers through her strands afterward, lingering for a few extra moments, pretending like he was looking for hairpins. “Done,” he said finally, scooting back from her.

They lay down together to sleep, fully clothed in their daytime clothes, too stoned and sleepy to bother changing out of them.

“Goodnight,” Ben whispered to her as her eyes began to flutter shut.

Her eyes snapped back open. Before Ben could do or say anything else, Rey hitched herself up and rolled on top of him. Sluggish in her lethargy, she kissed his forehead, her fingers in his hair. She kissed each eyebrow, dragging her lips gently across his forehead. She kissed the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, his chin, her fingertips drawing maps and constellations on his scalp. Then she pulled away, their noses brushing, and whispered, “Goodnight.”

His breathing hitched. “No strings,” he said suddenly. Ben wondered if he were so under the influence that he could imagine a waver in his voice.

“No labels,” she whispered back, a tiny grin tugging at her mouth.

She curled up on top of him, burrowing her face against his chest, and soon fell asleep. Carefully, not wanting to jostle her, he settled in, prepared to stay there all night if he had to.

Staring down at her, watching the peace on her in her slumber, he was trapped in more ways than one.

And for once, alone with this terrifying feeling with no one to witness it, he let himself indulge in it. Just this once, with drugs in his system impairing his judgment around her once again, he would look at her face and let himself feel all of this warmth and aching and longing swallow him whole and consume him until the intensity of it frightened him even more. He would feel the rhythmic beating of her heart, watch the steady rise and fall of her back as she breathed, and savor it. He’d breathe her in and press his lips against her hair at the very top of her head, soft so that she wouldn’t feel it enough to wake.

No one would know. Just him. And in the morning, when he left her, he’d make himself forget it.

But right now, at this moment, he wouldn’t move from this spot.

He wouldn’t dare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, man. Is this my favorite part of the entire story? It just might be. It was so fun to write, and I've been saving the getting high scene for a WHILE. So much fun. One of you actually predicted it a few months back, and it was sooo hard not to spoil the surprise.
> 
> Long, secluded scenes with lots of dialogue are my favorite ones to write. Plus, sweetness and some silliness alongside serious moments. For now, this remains my favorite part of the story. But who knows, that may change! There's still 4 more parts to go! (Barring me getting carried away again and adding even more onto the story. Which is...sadly, entirely possible.)
> 
> Also, is it me, or are you guys getting anxious for info about IX? Any info at all would suffice! Please, someone, just leak the title already! Put us out of our misery!!
> 
> Before I forget: 6 new songs on the spotify BB playlist! https://spoti.fi/2DL3eT2
> 
> Thanks once again for all of your love for this story, and your support, you guys. You're the best. ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ And please do me a solid and consider recommending this story to friends!


	8. Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our CEO ambushes our Stoner during a boring workday with a game of hooky and a surprise destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are 7 new playlist songs for this part, for those of you that dig readin' with a soundtrack: https://spoti.fi/2DL3eT2

_**part 8** _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rey had just returned from lunch break at the nearby taco truck on Friday when her phone went off inside her jeans pocket. She’d just managed to squeeze into the bathroom and answer the call before it stopped ringing. “You just missed my lunch break,” she said as a greeting. “Better luck next time.”

Ben Solo, however, was not interested in any form of arbitrary greeting for this particular phone call. Nor was he in the mood to humor her quip, and he did not bother. “I need you. Right now.”

Rey’s mouth dropped open. Taking another glance around, making sure she was completely alone in the bathroom, she breathed her answer in a sly voice. “Really? Do you, now?”

Once again, Ben was not interested in beating around the bush. So to speak. “I'm picking you up from work,” he informed her.

In her shock, she found herself repeating, “...It's just past lunch break. I just got back from it.”

“Say you have an emergency,” Ben replied. There was a heady, almost desperate edge to his voice that made Rey’s throat dry, and she could hear city noises on his end of the line. He, indeed, was driving to her place of work, coming straight to the Apple store so that he could have her all to himself. He was so desperate he couldn’t wait to the end of the workday. He had to have her _now_ , and he would let nothing stand in his way.

Holy _shit_.

“I'll lose the rest of my pay for the day,” was the only last argument Rey could think to bring up. She didn’t have anything else to argue, really. But her bank account would certainly miss the cash.

“I know,” he said like he had just come up with the idea, “I'll reimburse you. Go tell your boss about your emergency. I'll be at the curb in 15 minutes.”

Well, then. Rey was positive that he’d had that response ready for her. But when he put it that way, how could she possibly say no? Money was money, and money paid the rent. She wondered momentarily if this technically made her a hooker. Or a gold digger. Probably not. Probably. She wouldn’t read too much into it.

“What a reckless, scandalous plan you've concocted, Mr. Solo,” she said. “And all because you miss me so much. Look at you, loosening up a little. I think I may be a bad influence on you.”

“You most certainly are.” The dark, amused way he’d said this, his voice even deeper than usual, made Rey’s gut curl with heat. “You have me playing hooky like some desperate, horny teenager.”

Rey bit her lip, hitting her head against the wall she leaned back on and closing her eyes. “What a shame.”

She was unused to hearing him speak like this on the phone. This was new. But not by any stretch of the imagination was it unwelcome. Talking to him like this at _work_ , where anyone could walk in at any moment, was so thrilling that the anticipation made her burn.

“Very shameful,” he agreed, taking on an admonishing air. “Disgraceful, even. A CEO of my status should never act in such a way. How do you plan on making it up to me?”

Rey lowered her voice, grinning to herself. “Guess you’ll just have to see when you get here.”

“Twelve minutes,” Ben said. “Prepare your alibi for your boss and be outside when I arrive.”

“Hmm. That was awfully bossy.” Rey wrinkled her nose. “I’ll get you back for that later.”

“I look forward to it.” _Click_.

With a guffaw of disbelief, Rey locked her phone’s screen, stuffing it back into her pocket. Then she walked over to the sink, turning on the faucet and gathering water in her palms and splashing her shut eyes. She blinked them open, taking her fingertips and dragging the water around over her mascara and eyeliner, smudging the makeup all around her eyes and then down her cheeks.

Rey stood up straight, looking at herself in the mirror. Then she tried forcing some despair onto her features.

“My hamster,” she said, trying to sound sad. Nope, not good enough. She tried for hysterical this time. “ _My hamster!_ ” Too much, too much. Somewhere in the middle. One more time. “My…hamster. Ate all of her babies. And then she got eaten by my neighbor’s cat. Could I have the rest of the day off? To—” she sniffled, “—mourn their memory?”

Perfect. Rey aimed finger guns at herself in her reflection. “ _Pew, pew_.”

Nodding and smiling in satisfaction, she turned to the bathroom door to go straight to her boss’s office. Showtime.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So much for low-key.

Just a couple of weeks ago, Ben Solo had sworn to himself that he was only to remain undercover with Rey from now on—figuratively, literally. All the ways. And for a couple of weeks, he managed to maintain this new rule of his. The photos of them at Coney Island had stopped circulating, and much bigger scandals had taken their place. The brief piqued interest had died down, as Ben had discovered with his near-obsessive constant checking of all the paparazzi websites.

So perhaps it wasn’t so bad to lighten up on the strict rules just a little. As long as they stayed in the car, shrouded by dark windows from peering eyes or cameras, it would be fine.

And besides that, the fact was that the limitations that Ben had imposed on their meetings had begun to make him feel a little crazy. More and more, he couldn’t go much longer than a day without seeing her. Touching her. And he supposed the little crazy itching urges to see her had added up, compounding and intensifying, until resulting in this.

Skipping out on the rest of his work day, convincing her to play hooky with him, and orchestrating a frenzied quickie behind the Whole Foods down the street from her work.

Though they were in the cover of the empty alleyway, he would have never imagined that he would become such a purveyor of public indecency, and in such a short amount of time. He would have never done this a year ago, or even six months ago. Before, Ben had never imagined desiring someone so much that he couldn’t wait to be in a private place to be intimate with them. He’d thought it ridiculous—what kind of lust could be so overpowering that it could take precedence over behaving properly in public spaces, over completing a full workday, over everything?

This. This kind.

The kind that found him still raging with want even when she had her eye makeup dripping down her face like a deranged mime.

Ben could say he’d officially lost his mind, but the fact was, he’d perhaps never had any sanity in the first place—maybe he’d only just held together the illusion of sanity decently before Rey came along and introduced him to his true nature. Or maybe he didn’t actually know who he really was, before and now.

Either way, he didn’t care to think about it too much. All he ever did was think too much. He was tired of always thinking and getting stuck in torment cyclones inside his own head. Rey didn’t think too much, she just _acted_. And she was happy. She had the kind of happiness that Ben had only ever dreamed of, the kind he envied.

Perhaps Ben could stand to be a little more thoughtless.

“I can’t believe you said your hamster was dead,” Ben remarked, pulling the car out from behind the Whole Foods. He’d already straightened out his clothes, zipped his pants back up and placed his sunglasses back onto his face, shielding his eyes.

“You _said_ to come up with an emergency,” Rey said, finishing smoothing her hair back away from her face again. She opened Ben’s glove compartment, knowing exactly where he kept tissues, and took one, flipping down the mirror and dabbing the excess makeup away. “You didn’t say what kind.”

“You don’t even have a pet. That’s terrible.”

“It got the job done, didn’t it?” She smirked like a Cheshire cat. “Or _I_ did.”

“Boo,” Ben jeered, straight-faced.

Rey started laughing, then stopped. “Wait, ‘boo’ to the pun, or ‘boo’ to the job?”

“The pun. The…job was…” Ben trailed off. He glanced over at Rey, who leaned toward him in anticipation with bright eyes. She’d led him to say it. And he’d fallen for it. Oh, god. He was a participant in this now. He sighed heavily, his large shoulders slumping in defeat, then finished, “The job was well done.”

Rey erupted in thunderous laughter, doubling over. And though the horrible joke pained him, he couldn’t help but be amused at her getting so much enjoyment from the corniness. She was in extra bright spirits today, practically radiant, and despite the very real guilt Ben felt over orchestrating this impromptu meeting instead of being at work, it was worth it. At the sound of her laugh, his chest hummed with warmth and contentment.

Regardless, Ben told her flatly, “Never make me say that again.”

“I wish I’d taken video of it,” Rey remarked, laugh waning, finishing fixing her makeup with the tissue.

Ben didn’t reply, letting the car space fill with silence as he focused on the road and where they were going. The traffic was decent at this time of day—the lunch rush was mostly gone, and the after-work commute had not yet begun. They would arrive at their destination in record time, which was exactly what he was hoping for.

His companion had settled comfortably into the quiet as well, watching the world outside the windshield and her window. Then, she inhaled as a thought seemed to suddenly come to her. “Hey, when I was high the other day, did I get too affectionate? Too lovey-dovey?” She paused, looking over at him. He didn’t return the probing gaze, stubbornly keeping his eyes fixed ahead of him, on every bend and crack in the road. Rey continued, explaining, “Sometimes that happens when I get too stoned, and I don’t remember if I did or not. Did I act out of the ordinary?”

This question weighed heavy on Ben. The weight of it was like the Earth itself, crust folding over him and pressing him into the molten layers of the planet. “…No,” he forced out. The lie stung his lips. “You didn’t. Not at all.”

He was supposed to forget it. He couldn’t.

Phantom kisses on his forehead and his nose and his cheeks, fluttering against his skin like butterfly wings. The sensation followed him wherever he went, every hour of the day, most insistently before he slept. A body curled up on top of him, a weight so pleasant and sweet and alive. Exquisite in a way that made it hard to breathe. He would never forget it for as long as he lived.

Ben Solo was a haunted man.

Silence passed again for several minutes, minutes where Ben warred with himself and grasped onto the steering wheel for dear life. And still, he didn’t dare look at Rey. Because his secrets and fears felt so plain that he was sure that the moment she looked into his eyes, she would see it all. She would see everything.

“Hey, you missed the turn,” she told him suddenly, referring to the turn he usually took toward Bay Ridge.

Relieved for an abrupt change of subject, ripping him away from his inner battle, Ben took a breath and replied, “We’re not going to your place.”

“Wait, really?”

Ben nodded, not giving anything else away.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he said, and nothing else. Even when Rey prodded him and poked him, asking for hints. All he did was shake his head, enjoying her simultaneous agitation and excitement.

Where they were headed was a place that Ben had never intended on bringing her before. It was one of his hard rules, one of the ones he never broke. A rule he was about to toss away like garbage.

Haunted. Out of his mind. Sure, he was. Different, too—also that.

Maybe this new Ben Solo didn’t need rules. Maybe he could do whatever he wanted. He’d already come so far—maybe he should just keep going, recklessly see how far he could take this without completely falling apart. Maybe it would be fine. Maybe he was lying to himself. Maybe that was okay. Maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe he didn’t care anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They drove over the Manhattan Bridge, leaving Brooklyn and entering Manhattan. Rey was losing her mind with anticipation and curiosity.

She hadn’t been in Manhattan since the night they’d met—or more accurately, since she and her friends had crashed his party and she’d eaten too many of her brownies and then ruined his designer clothes with the most expensive wine her tastebuds had ever had the pleasure of being bathed in.

Since that night, she hadn’t been back. But she’d missed the distinct flavor of Manhattan air, and as much as she loved the worn-in comfort of Brooklyn, experiencing Manhattan was like drinking that pricey dark wine. It was a treat that she knew she wouldn’t get to experience much of, and so every time she came she savored it. Gulped down as much of it as she could, feeling it burn all the way down her throat. She got drunk on this rare treat, so drunk and happy that her head spun.

There was this ancient elegance that Manhattan had that Brooklyn didn’t. Of course, there were the other New York things—buildings in various stages of reconstruction, and trash in places that there didn’t need to be trash because there were barely any damn trashcans anywhere.

But it was the _feeling_ —the feeling of being here was different. It felt like being a part of history. She imagined it was the same in other iconic cities—Paris, Rome, Tokyo, London. She’d always dreamed of visiting such places all over the world, but knowing she’d never be able to, she only read about them and experienced them in movies. So she held onto Manhattan the Dream, the piece of history right next door to her home. The historic and iconic place she’d never truly have a place to belong in, but that she loved being in nonetheless.

Especially in the direction Ben was taking them, through the East Village and into the heart of NoHo. The further they entered the neighborhood, the cleaner and nicer the streets became. There were even patches of grass that were well maintained, and trees lining the sidewalk. These trees weren’t as big and old as the trees in Rey’s neighborhood—they were shorter, fresher. They still had plenty of more decades to grow into their full potential.

Finally, Ben brought the car to a stop in front of a nice building that had the words ‘CARL FISHER’ over the entrance, with a doorman standing guard just outside. An apartment building. A fancy one.

“Is this your house?” Rey asked in disbelief just as he cut the engine and took the keys from the ignition.

Ben once again said nothing in direct reply, instead handing her a large pair of reflective sunglasses and a hat. “Put these on and look down as we go inside. Don’t take them off until I say. Okay?”

Slightly daunted, Rey took them from his grasp and did what he instructed. “Got it.”

Nodding at her when she donned both items, concealing her identity, he said, “Follow me,” and opened his car door, hopping out.

She followed his lead, leaving the car and looking down, just as he’d said. He ushered her in front of him with a hand on her lower back as they neared the doorman. He greeted Ben with a familiar smile.

“Afternoon, Mr. Solo. Welcome home,” the man greeted, opening the door to the building.

“Thank you,” Ben replied with curt politeness.

The man in uniform only spared the slightest glance for Rey as they passed through and entered the lobby. The lobby was quiet but pretty, and nicely attended. Ben handed his car keys to another uniformed man. “My usual spot,” was all he told the man—a valet, Rey realized a few beats too late.

The man rushed out the door, hurrying to park his car wherever he usually parked it. Ben seemed unconcerned with getting his car keys back—perhaps he had a set routine where they sent them back to him. Through the concierge, maybe. This place looked like it had tight security, and Rey seriously doubted that any of the employees would try to mess with who was one of the most important men in the city.

Ben continued ushering her forward through the room, walking with long quick strides that Rey had to concentrate to keep up with.

“I never took you as an East Village kind of guy,” Rey murmured over her shoulder, just low enough that no one but him would be able to hear.

Ben’s lips twitched. “Really, now?” he whispered. They came to a stop in front of the doors of an elevator, which Ben pushed the arrow up button for, then dug into one of his pockets for something—another key, this one hanging on a ring with just one other key next to it. Even his key rings were minimal and neat.

They entered the elevator when it opened up, and Ben pressed the ‘DOOR CLOSE’ button. Then he opened a little door under the regular elevator buttons, revealing a keyhole and a button next to it that read ‘PENTHOUSE’. He entered the key into the slot, turned it, then pressed the button. Rey shook her head, wry and amazed. Of course he lived in a penthouse. Of _course_. What was she expecting?

Ben noticed her head shake, and he asked her, lifting an eyebrow as the elevator pulled them upward, “So you know some of these East Village sort of men, then?”

“Just one,” Rey answered, wrinkling her nose at him. “Poe, actually. He lives some ways away from here.”

“Hmm.” Ben looked like he didn’t know how to feel about that.

Rey pressed on. “Anyway, I just assumed you’d be more of the Upper East Side type. That’s all.”

“I see,” Ben said. “I actually do have a place up there, too. Used to be my grandparent’s place. I inherited it.” He paused when the elevator finally came to a stop at the very top of the building. “Didn’t like living there, though. Too big. Wasn’t quite my taste.”

Now it was Rey’s turn to “hmm”. She wanted to ask more about that, but the elevator doors opened up, and Ben seemed eager not to elaborate, stepping off the elevator. She quickly followed him out to the new door directly in front of them, Ben unlocking it with the last key.

“Can I take these off now?” she asked—though not really asking, as she was already tugging off the hat.

Ben snorted in his subdued, soft way. “Of course. It’s just us now.” The door unlocked, and Ben turned the knob, opening the door and gesturing for Rey to enter first. Mirroring her introduction to her own place, which seemed like ages ago now, he told her, “My humble abode.”

Rey stepped through—then dropped the hat in her hand to the floor.

The apartment in front of her was an expansive, wide-open space. With an open floor plan and tall ceilings, it seemed to stretch on forever. And the shiny, white stone floors, mirrored with the pristine white walls and smooth white ceilings, it made it seem even bigger. Six oversize windows lined the walls, and in-between were large, abstract paintings that Rey had maybe seen before in museums, or in art magazines. Contrasting the neverending white of the space was stark black, sleek furniture, which partially sat facing a wide, skinny electric fireplace. No television in sight. The sectional couch looked large enough to seat several people, and sat low to the ground in a very modern and minimalist way, as was the coffee table, the single chair which looked slightly more comfortable than the couch, and the dining room set over on the far end of the room, sitting under the modern lighting fixture that looked like a piece of art itself.

And Rey suspected this was just the beginning of the insanity of this place.

Slowly, she lowered the sunglasses from her eyes. The breath left her lungs in a rush, her mouth dropped open. One of her hands covered it. “Ben,” she said finally as he entered behind her, shutting his front door. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Hm?”

“You cannot actually live here. No real people actually live in places like this,” Rey insisted. “They just dress them up and take pictures of them and put them in design magazines and on lifestyle Instagram accounts to make broke people feel bad. This isn’t real. This _cannot_ be real.”

“Oh, but it is.” Ben dropped his keys into a dish on a small table next to the door. “Hungry?”

Rey blinked, still numbly taking in her surroundings. “No.”

“Then I’ll make myself something, if you don’t mind.” Ben started to walk off, then paused, looking at her over his shoulder. “Take your time.”

As soon as he turned left around a corner, wandering off to some other part of the penthouse, Rey was compelled to sprint over to the windows and take in the view. Flawless, just as she suspected. A straight city view, but flawless nonetheless. It was like a little piece of paradise.

Next, she stopped in front of each oversize painting, admiring them and wishing she knew the names of who made them.

Deciding to go in the direction she’d seen Ben go off in, she walked past a chess set she hadn’t seen before. It was made of frosted glass and marble, stark black and white like the rest of his apartment.

Around the corner was the rest of the main floor of the penthouse—across the way there were stairs that lead up to a _second floor_. But before the stairs was a sit-in kitchen, which Ben stood inside of. He was currently looking inside of his refrigerator, which had glass doors, and a touch screen that advertised the current time and the weather outside.

“Ben, this place is amazing. I can’t believe you live here,” said Rey, stopping on the other side of the white, ‘L’ shaped kitchen island with marble counters and 6 burners. She was breathless. “It’s like a 5-star hotel, but better. Because you _live_ here.”

“I can give you a tour in a bit if you like,” Ben offered her as he shut the fridge doors. “First I need to order some groceries. Running low.” He pulled out his phone from his pocket, unlocking and typing away on it. “Also thinking of getting dinner, though it’s pretty early.” He glanced up from his phone’s screen. “Do you mind?”

It took Rey several moments to realize that in so many words, Ben Solo had just asked her to dinner. “Oh,” she said, keeping herself composed. “I don’t mind. But my clothes,” she started, glancing down at herself with a wince. If she’d known he was going to invite her to dinner, she’d have brought a change in outfits.

“We’ll eat in,” he said simply. He went back to typing on his phone. “I’ll order it now.”

As Ben ordered the groceries and dinner to be delivered to them, Rey meandered back to the windows, admiring the view again. And when he was done, he came back to her side. “I’ll show you around,” he said gesturing for her to fall into step beside him. They reentered the broad living room that Rey beheld when they’d first entered.

“Why am I not surprised you don’t have a TV?” Rey mused, looking at the relatively empty room, seeming almost sacred without a big black rectangle screen mounted anywhere.

Ben shrugged, sheepish. “I don’t have time for TV. I prefer movies, and I just watch those on my personal tablet.” He perked up, muttering, “Speaking of tablets.” He strolled over to the coffee table, picking up a medium-sized tablet lying there.

“For movies?” Rey asked, frowning down at it. “The screen is kinda small.”

“Not movies,” he said with a shake of his head, unlocking it. “It’s a remote. Watch.” He pressed something on the screen, and a fire inside the electric fireplace instantly sprung to life. Rey jumped in surprise, jaw dropping again. Pressing something else on the remote, shades simultaneously dropped down over all six windows, perfectly in-sync.

“You’re shitting me.”

Ben kept going. “Dim the lights,” he said as he dragged a digital dimmer switch up and down on the screen. He readjusted them, making them bright again. “And of course, the A.C., heating, and sound system are controlled with it too.”

“Of course they are,” Rey said, face flat. This place was straight out of the future. She wondered if he could be _so_ rich that he actually owned a time machine.

He turned off the fire and set down the tablet remote again, putting it in the exact place it was before on the table. “And you already saw the kitchen. Let’s head toward this end.”

Ben lead her around the corner again, and as they passed the kitchen, he pointed in the opposite direction. “That way’s the guest restroom, my home office, and the laundry room. Nothing exciting to see.” Rey couldn’t help but notice how eager he seemed to get away from that part of his place, and she wondered if there was something in his personal office that he didn’t want her to see. Perhaps something too private for a no-labels friend-type-person to see.

At the far end of this part of the main floor, where there were limestone and glass stairs that floated up to the second floor, there was more black furniture here in what seemed to be another entertainment room. A second black couch, a second, smaller electric fireplace, and tall, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled to the brim with books.

“My miniature library,” he announced with a sweeping gesture. “Not all of my books are out here, though. There are more in my office.”

Rey squinted at the selection of books on the shelves, taking some time to leaf over them. Mostly non-fiction, it seemed.

They climbed the stairs to the second floor, and there they emerged into a _third_ sitting room. This one had just as many paintings on the walls as the one downstairs, but the space was smaller. More private, intimate. The dark furniture faced out to more oversized windows which lined the whole west wall. And when they journeyed down a short hallway, they emerged in a master suite. A bedroom, with an attached bathroom. Simply furnished, with a high ceiling, and bar-none the biggest bed Rey had ever seen with her own two eyes. From headboard to pillows to sheets, it was black, and the mattress had to be California King sized. _Had_ to be.

“Good lord,” Rey burst out as soon as she saw it. “That has to be custom made.” She paused, realizing what she was saying, and smacked her forehead. “What am I saying? Of course you got your bed custom made.”

Amusement shadowed over Ben’s face. “I like a lot of room.”

“I can tell.”

The pièce de résistance was the rooftop terrace—Ben lead her out to it through a door in the sitting room. With lots of well-maintained and classy outdoor furniture, a huge grill, a huge mounted television on an outside wall, and a humongous _freshwater hot tub_ , this was clearly where Ben Solo did his business entertaining when he wasn’t throwing big downtown parties. This place could swallow Rey’s tiny studio four times and still be hungry for dessert.

“Unbelievable,” Rey said as they made their way back down to the main level. “Mind-blowing. Life-changing.”

“Glad you’re impressed,” Ben replied, looking pretty damn proud of himself. “I was concerned you might be…” he trailed off.

“Disgusted?” Rey offered. He nodded, and she shrugged. “Maybe once upon a time. I guess I’ve become a little more open-minded, being around you.”

Ben considered this, and his expression was peculiar. “So have I.” His phone went off, and he took it back out of his pocket, checking it. “Hold on, the groceries are here, I need to go let the delivery guy up.”

When Ben returned with bags and bags of groceries, the two of them put the food away in their proper places. And Rey marveled, despite the luxury that she still couldn’t even wrap her brain around, at how normal this felt. Doing ordinary things together. It should’ve been against the rules, and maybe it was. But as much as she hated admitting it to herself, it felt nice.

Their early dinner also arrived soon after, and Rey sat across from Ben at his dining room table. They ate steak and lobster from a nearby high-end restaurant, which Ben mentioned he ordered because he remembered how much she’d loved it at his party. He also ordered the same wine from his party to go with it: the deep burgundy, pricey Cabernet. It made Rey tickle inside, and she couldn’t stop glancing up at him over their plates—and almost every time, he was looking up at her first.

Rey thought there could never be a place in Manhattan where she felt like she belonged. But with a dinner like this, a girl could start to feel at home.

A quiet dinner at his home. Peaceful. And warm. With a tingling, buzzing feeling in the air. Intoxicating. They sat there for hours, until the sun set and the stars came out. Alone, in a place like this, with wine like this, almost anything could happen.

A tantalizing thought.

Exciting.

…And risky. Dangerous.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This idea was dangerous. Rey forgot that she shouldn’t be allowed to come up with ideas when she’s tipsy, or high, or basically not sober at all. But much more surprising was Ben _agreeing_ to this idea in the first place. Perhaps he was a little tipsy, too.

“You first,” Rey said when the water was finished running. “You take up more space.”

“Fair enough.” Instead of quipping back as Rey had expected, Ben abruptly reached down and pulled his t-shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side.

Even though Rey had already seen him nude more times than she could count on her hands, she turned her vision to the limestone floors when he pushed down his pants, kicked them away, then removed his underwear. She took a thick sip from the wine glass in her hand. Somehow, nudity in a bed versus nudity like _this_ felt much different. It made her a little antsy and bashful, but she didn’t know why.

Especially since, again, this was _her idea_. Though, more accurately, it was a last-minute, mischievous lightbulb moment.

“I need to wash up. I’d like to try that fancy freestanding bathtub of yours.” she’d said at the dinner table after finishing their meal, pouring herself another glass of that delicious, delicious wine. The comment weighed heavy between them. She’d stared at him, and he held her gaze unwaveringly. Challengingly. Damn near goading her to say it. “Join me,” she’d said before her remaining sober thoughts could grab hold of her last functioning brain cells.

And now there they were. Doing the dangerous thing that they shouldn’t have been doing.

The sound of gentle splashing echoed off the walls and floors in the quiet bathroom as Ben settled into the bathtub gracefully. He sighed in contentment. “Haven’t gotten to use this in a while. Usually only have the time for showers.”

Finally, Rey retrained her gaze on him. Just as she’d suspected, he took up more than half of the tub, his bent knees peeking up from the surface of the steaming water.

She swirled the wine in her glass. “What about your hot tub on the terrace? Wait, sorry,” she corrected herself with an eye-roll, “Your _freshwater_ hot tub.” If she had a hot tub, Rey thought, she would never leave that thing. She would live in it, sleep in it, eat all three meals in it. Become a human prune in it.

He was unfazed at the good-natured jab. “Not lately,” he said. “Too hot outside. Better in the winter months.” He spread his arms across the rim of the tub, inviting, chest broad and open. “So, do you plan on coming in eventually? Or is this all for me?”

Rey leaned a hip against the stone counter behind her, sighing. “Dunno. Such a nice view this is. Would hate to waste it.”

Ben held her eyes, lifting his chin, pleased and openly relishing in her admiration. Silence was traded, heady and pulsing.

“You’ve had a long week,” he said finally, voice a hypnotic hum. “Come relax with me.”

This seemed like a bad idea, for reasons that Rey knew on some level, but didn’t particularly care about at this point. All she knew was that the vision of Ben Solo draped inside of a steaming bath, skin flushing and hair humid, was possibly the most potent high she’d ever experienced.

She stepped forward, handing her glass to him. He took it from her without hesitation. “So you won’t spill it on me again?” Ben suggested, the briefest flash of delectation in his eyes. “On second thought, spill it in the water. Make it a wine bath. Heard it’s good for the skin.”

Rey appreciated the small joke. It helped lighten the air, for a second making her feel like she weren’t about to catch on fire. Her face split into a simper. “Shut up,” she said, peeling off the cursed Apple Store t-shirt, then pushing off her pants and underwear with one swoop.

Unlike the way she’d politely looked away as he’d undressed, Ben watched her, eyes drinking in her every movement. He instantly sobered, traces of humor gone and replaced with an aching hunger. One handed, she removed her bra, throwing it away and dipping her toes into the water. With his free hand, he reached up, offering it to her for balance. She took it as she stepped inside, gripping him tightly so she didn’t slip.

Momentarily, she blinked, trying to figure out the best way to fit inside the bath. She could easily sit across from him, leaving space in the middle for both of their legs. Keep some space between them. Keep her head relatively clear.

Instead, she turned her back to him, sitting between his legs, then carefully scooting until her back and shoulders were flush with his chest. Before she could ask if this was comfortable for him, Ben welcomed her in, crooking his legs around her like a nest. Flesh pressed against flesh, and his heart rattled inside of him, pounding into her shoulder blade.

Yes, a bad idea. A really bad idea. He didn’t care, either.

Rey held out her hand. “Wine, please.”

Ben stole a sip from the glass. “For my troubles,” he explained as he handed it back to her.

“Ah, yes. I’ve inconvenienced you so with my naked body. My apologies,” Rey replied, taking another sip herself. With their position, Ben’s face was positioned right above her right shoulder. She moved with his every inhale and exhale, felt it on her temple and cheekbone. She didn’t turn to meet his gaze, positive she would kiss him if she did. Through no fault of her own.

“I wouldn’t say ‘inconvenienced’,” Ben pondered aloud. “‘Tortured’, maybe.”

Rey swallowed. “Tortured in a good way, I should hope. If not, you should sue me for all I’ve got.”

“The best torture imaginable.” Ben’s voice caught. He stared down at her, and she felt his eyes like two black holes sucking her in.

Rey resisted. She took a large gulp of wine this time, distracting herself from his gravity. She was once again feeling shy, in a way that she never had felt before in Ben’s presence. She scrambled to change the subject.

“Where’s the soap?” She’d asked it so abruptly that it was obvious how unnerved she was, and she only just resisted the urge to groan at herself.

Without question, Ben reached over the rim of the tub toward the floor, producing an expensive-looking brand of body wash and handing it to her. Rey blinked down at it in her hand. The writing on it was in French. “Swanky,” she muttered. Then she let go of the bottle, letting it float away from them on the top of the water. “I’ll save it for later.”

“Whatever you like.”

Rey looked up at the ceiling, then the shaded window, then the glass-encased shower stall with the rain shower head. Even the bathroom in this place was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. It was unbelievable. “I can’t believe you live here,” she said again.

Ben’s breath blew out in a humorless laugh. “You keep saying that.”

“Because I still can’t believe it,” she said. “It’s so…big.”

“If you think this place is big, you should see the one my grandparents gave me.”

With the subject effectively changed, the tension left Rey’s body, and she shifted, turning to look Ben in the eye. “I can’t imagine living in a place this big by myself.”

Ben shrugged a shoulder. “It’s my version of cozy.” The steam brought a flush to the tops of his cheeks and nose, and the tips of his ears. Even his lips had more color to them.

Not understanding, she squinted, shaking her head. “But don’t you ever feel lonely?”

As what usually happened sometimes when Rey asked him tough questions, he tried to brush it off, wipe away the very suggestion of what she insinuated. But Rey kept looking at him, patiently waiting for the moment to pass. Reminding him that it was her, and no one else. No pretense required of him.

Indifference drained from Ben’s face, and a darkness flooded it. And suddenly all that was left was the hundred-yard stare of a burdened man. He whispered, “Every day.”

Rey let this settle for a moment, let this new bit of knowledge roll around in her mind. She asked, whispering too, “Right now?”

Ben’s eyes met hers again. He softened. “No.”

Wine burned through Rey’s veins, warming her chest and drawing her closer to Ben’s form like a magnet. Slow, careful, she shifted again. Lowered her head to rest back on his chest. He shifted too, accommodating her position. “Then why do you live here if it makes you feel lonely?”

“I’m lonely no matter where I go. Venue doesn’t matter.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Comes with power, I suppose. No one wants to be around the ones at the top. Unless it’s for their own agenda. It’s like I told you before. Some of it, it’s from me pushing people away from me. The rest,” he paused for a heavy second, almost not finishing, “the rest comes with the territory of trying to follow in the footsteps of a legacy that’s unattainable.”

Clutching her glass closer to her chest, Rey sighed. “Your grandfather, you mean.”

Slowly, Ben nodded. Rey got the sense that he had never told anyone this before. At least not to this extent.

Great heights, great expectations. Rey had always had trouble fully getting why Ben took so much offense to preconceived notions about him, and why he cared so much about what people thought of him. Now she understood. “I’ve never experienced the weight of those kinds of expectations,” Rey replied after giving it more thought. “It must be difficult, and I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Rey.” He did sound thankful for her sympathy.

“I am, too, you know.” She blinked up at him. “Lonely, I mean.”

This seemed to perplex Ben. “You have so many people who care about you.” He shook his head, frowning. “I don’t understand.”

“You have thousands of people that worship what you’ve achieved,” she countered. “What you have around you,” she gestured with her wine glass, making a large circle with it, “doesn’t matter. Not if you’re lonely in here.” She beat a fist against her forehead. “Sometimes loneliness is from circumstance. Sometimes it’s from your brain telling you that no one cares about you. Someone could be the most dearly loved person in the whole world and still feel that they’re alone.” She settled up against him, shutting her eyes. “I know how it feels. And I know that nothing anyone else could tell you would convince you otherwise, not if you truly believe it. But I’m here, Ben. And with me, you’re not alone.”

Ben was quiet for a good minute. Breathing in and out shakily. With her ear pressed against his chest, she could hear it all. His heart raced, and blood coursed through him like a raging river.

Finally, he said, his voice brittle, “So what you’re saying is, I should invite you over more often.”

Surprised, Rey laughed. It echoed off the shiny walls. “I mean, yeah. Someone’s gotta put that hot tub to good use.” She opened her eyes, sitting up from Ben’s chest. He was staring at her again. Knowing that what he didn’t say would be plain in his eyes, she still didn’t look back.

Rey gulped down her wine until her glass was completely drained. She handed the glass back to Ben as she reached forward, chasing after that floating bottle of body wash. He placed the empty glass carefully on the edge of the window sill, and Rey flipped open the body wash and poured some into her open palm, shutting it then scrubbing it over her arms and chest and neck.

“Want me to get your legs for you?” she asked. “Since I can reach.”

Ben bent his legs further out of the water. “If you please.”

Rey slathered Ben’s legs with the soap, washing them for him in an almost instinctive way. They had never done something like this before, nothing this intimate. Yet again, it felt _natural_. Like bathing together was something they’d done a thousand times before, like they were meant to do something like this together in private instead of apart. They could have taken separate showers, waited for the other to finish while doing something else. Not making this mundane, everyday thing something that they even needed to do together—yet they chose this. And they followed through. And it didn’t feel wrong, or strange.

Some more silence passed as Rey rinsed off Ben’s legs, then splashed water on herself to rinse off her own skin. Without her asking him to, Ben spread soap on her back and scrubbed it for her, getting all the spots she normally couldn’t reach with her own hands. He lathered it over her skin methodically, massaging in soothing circles.

The mutual action was almost primal in the calmest of ways, and the two didn’t speak, sharing only glances and the steam laced air that they breathed. Then the question burst from Ben, interrupting the hypnotic atmosphere. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Rey replied automatically. She took hold of one of Ben’s arms by his palm, slathering the limb with body wash and scrubbing it for him even though he could easily wash his arms himself, and she didn’t need to.

“What do your tattoos mean?”

Her hands paused, stiffening.

Immediately sensing her discomfort, he murmured, “You don’t have to tell me.” His other hand, damp, slicked down her back. “I’ve just been curious about it.”

Slowly, Rey lowered Ben’s arm back toward the water. As their skin made contact with the water once again, soap bloomed across the surface, spreading and turning the water milky.

“Everyone usually is,” she said. “But I’ve only ever told my friends their meanings.” She stopped for a beat, then another, and then another. Then she looked up at him, meeting his patient eyes. Not pressuring, not urging. Letting her decide.

Rey lifted her hand, pointing to the ink of heart monitor lines above her heart. “This reminds me that every second I’m alive, I need to _feel_ it. Listen to my heartbeat, feel the world around me. Remember that every second I’m still breathing counts.” She moved her hand over her shoulder, pointing down at the wilted flower on her upper back, turning so he could see. “This reminds me that beauty in anything isn’t permanent, and to appreciate its’ memory even after its’ left.” She hesitated now. Pausing longer than before.

Ben tilted his head. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

She nodded, taking a long, deep breath. She dragged her hand down, pointing now at the tiny silhouetted penguin on her ribs. “This is…for my dad.” Moved her hand inches down, to the silhouetted elephant on the back of her hip. “And this is for my mom.”

His eyes lingered on them both, inquisitive. “Why those animals in particular?”

“Penguin fathers are some of the best fathers in nature. They carry the egg until it hatches. They protect it.” An ancient, familiar ache rose up inside of Rey’s chest from its’ hiding place, just as she’d expected it to. “And elephant mothers would do anything for their babies. Even attack predators. The community of elephant mothers band together to protect all the babies. Watch over them and keep them from harm and care for them.” Rey gathered her hands together, folding them and then unfolding them. Fidgeting. “That’s why I chose them. Though I didn’t have my parents for very long…that’s how I remember them. It’s…all I have left. That memory.”

Ben leaned in closer. “They died.”

The two words exploded through Rey like a nuclear explosion, pain radiating from her head to tips of her fingers to her pinkie toes. Familiar, but nonetheless always leaving her unable to breathe.

“Yes,” she forced out, “in an accident. When I was 6.” Her bottom lip trembled, and to distract both herself and him from it, she picked the body wash bottle back up, shaking it and squeezing out more. She turned to face Ben completely, slathering his chest in the soap.

“You were so young,” he said, his chest rumbling under her palms. “Did other members of your family take care of you?”

“No other family.” Rey’s voice broke. More railed out of her before she could think it through and stop it. “Went into the foster system. Was taken in by a man named Unkar, who basically made me a live-in housemaid until I was 18. A real piece of shit that made my life miserable. He didn’t take care of me. I took care of myself.”

“How?”

“Begged for money on the streets for clothes and food until I was old enough to get a job. Because he never provided those things for me. Then I worked shitty fast food jobs, saved up my money. Ran away as soon as I could.”

“Ran to where?” Ben’s voice had softened even more.

“Just away. Anywhere. Being homeless was better than living with the man who tortured me. And sometimes I wished—” She cut herself off abruptly, almost saying something unforgivable.

Ben caught it. “You wished for what?”

Tears overflowed Rey’s eyes, finally spilling out. “Sometimes I wished that my parents hadn’t left me alone in this world. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I wished they’d stayed alive. I wish they’d stayed alive for me.”

Despite the way her voice wobbled through her sobs, she continued scrubbing at his chest, spreading the soap lather over his collarbones and his shoulders. Tears dripped off her chin, landing on his skin. She kept scrubbing until he reached up, gripping both wrists inside his hands, stopping her wordlessly. And Rey kept crying, trying to turn her face away, humiliated by her own tears. Terrified of the fears and pain inside her heart and mind.

“No,” Ben whispered, letting go of her hands and cupping both hands around her face firm and gentle, trapping her there so she couldn’t turn away. His thumbs swiped at her tears. “Don’t do that. Don’t hide. It’s okay.”

Stopping, Rey gave in, just sitting still and letting herself weep and letting him watch. Letting him wipe her tears away. She didn’t cry in front of others, not even her best friends.  Or at least, she never allowed herself to. Before now.

“They loved you, Rey,” Ben murmured. “They didn’t mean to leave you. They didn’t decide that. They wouldn’t have left you if they’d had the choice. You’re their only child. They loved you.”

Falling apart at the firm words filled with unwavering conviction, Rey wept harder, face crumpling, and Ben pulled her face to him. He kissed both cheeks, tasting her tears, and then her lips. Kissed her over and over, his lips a balm on the rips in her soul, and enfolded her into his arms.

“I’m alone, Ben.” The words muffled against his lips, strained and thin and small. “I’m alone.”

His hands moved to the back of her head, tangling in her hair. “You’re not alone.” He pulled back just enough for her to look into his eyes. “Look at me. I’m here.” His whisper was a searching hand in the dark, an anchor in a storm. “I’m here.”

And just like that, with the utterance of those words, everything that Rey thought she’d ever known fell to pieces. Her world splintered apart, swirled, and reformed all at once. Earth’s gravity let her go, and she was floating, floating, floating.

This inner shift was so shattering to Rey that she was sure that Ben, perceptive as he was, saw it in her eyes. That everything had changed.

Tentative, Rey’s face lingered against Ben’s. Nose brushing against his, his blinks tickling her cheek.

She dipped toward him, and their lips touched once more, but in a way they had never touched before. Sweet, savoring. Aching. Their eyes didn’t close—their gazes locked together, searched and spoke.

Her wet hands rose, splaying across his flushed chest, claiming. His hands first stayed firmly behind her head. Then they released and traveled downward, taking special care to run fingertip over every inch, every crevice.

Rey climbed over him, straddling his hips and pressing her bare chest against his, reaching around his torso and gripping his upper back and shoulders. Like a spell, neither looked away from one another.

Ben released a ragged sigh, deepening his kiss, and Rey returned it with fervor. One of his hands traveled back up her spine. The other disappeared beneath the water.

Rey gasped against his mouth, her grip around him weakening. Her face fell into his collarbone as she let out a languid moan. “ _Ben_.”

Ben pressed his cheek against the top of her head as he asked, voice uneven, “Would you like me to stop?”

Her reply was desperate, her legs buckling. “No. Don’t stop.”

He continued, fingers dancing against her. First slow, experimental. Then deeper, longer, exploring. Slowing and quickening in succession. Entering.

Rey writhed on top of him, burning and seeing stars. This was different. Of course, they had done this before—but not this way. Usually, when he did this, it was a mechanical means to an end, so they could get to the main event as quickly and effectively as possible. She’d done the same with him. They’d never bothered with the other stuff, just getting straight to the point without the hassle of everything else.

Ben had never touched her like this. With such meticulous care, with such _worship_. Watching her face as he worked, studying her like the most compelling painting he’d ever admired. Pleasure pulsing in his eyes when gasps and grunts spilled from her lips. Catching her against him as her limbs lost their strength, water sloshing with both their movements.

This reached new heights. It was revolutionary. Rey’s brain was spinning, and she never wanted this to stop.

He brought her to the end with devotion, thoroughly bringing her back down and letting her mind return to her before he spoke.

“The water’s getting cold,” he said, returning both hands to her back. “Wouldn’t you prefer my bed?”

It took Rey several seconds to even find her voice. When she did, it was husky between heaving breaths. “Yes. Right now.”

She sat up from his chest, beginning to stand up with shaky legs and lift out of the tub—and then her feet were swept out from beneath her. She yelped as Ben scooped her up into his arms, carrying her out of the tub and across the bathroom bridal style, stark nude and dripping water across the heated stone floors. Rey wrapped her arms around his neck for dear life, but the slippery floor didn’t seem to concern him at all.

“Carrying me to your bedchamber like a bride?” Rey asked as they left the bathroom and entered his dim bedroom, lit only by moonlight streaming through the tall windows. Her voice still rasped. “Cliché.”

Ben’s eyes flashed with humor. “I thought it was pretty smooth.”

They arrived at the truly gigantic California King sized bed. Instead of dropping her there on the black bedspread, as Rey had expected, Ben set her down gently, climbing up after her as he bent down for a kiss.

Rey crawled backward, returning the kiss and lying back as he folded himself down onto her. His hand grasped the side of her face, tucking her wet hair behind her ear, thumb tracing her jaw. Tender. Gentle. Lips brushing and tasting. So feather light, like the other might fall apart. Different.

Everything was different.

Ben broke away. His eyes were wide and dark. “Are you cold?”

Rey shook her head.

“You’re comfortable?” he asked. He was nervous. Ben was _never_ nervous. Not when they did this.

She nodded.

“Good. Can I get you anythi—”

“Ben,” Rey interrupted, grinning against his lips. She felt like she might cry again. But different from the last time. Happy, maybe. “Shut up.”

He did. And they intertwined.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ben thought there was something deeply perplexing, yet satisfying about this—getting clean together just to undo all of it immediately afterward. A mind-bending contradiction that he wanted more of.

Though not tonight. Tonight they had expended all their energy, in all the ways possible. Physical, mental, emotional. Though he was sure he would come to regret that last part, likely by morning. But nonetheless, all types of energy had been spent. They’d just experienced an evening of unfathomable proportions, done without their usual way. Softness, instead of frenzied maneuvers. Shared gazes and kisses and whispers, instead of positions that were cold and didn’t allow any of those things. Moving together instead of using each other. Different.

And though he would undoubtedly overthink all of this to death later with a sober mind, his brain trying to convince him of impossible things, now it was time for sleep.

It was coming for him quickly. He felt it lingering on the edge of his consciousness, coiling to spring and drag him unconscious. But before he let himself pass out, he had to do what he usually did, needed the reassurance that gave his worries some peace.

“No strings,” he said, turning to Rey, who faced away from him.

Ben waited for her response, as he always did. But unlike always, Rey didn’t respond this time.

Sitting up slightly from his pillow, Ben whispered, “Rey?”

She didn’t respond, and she didn’t stir. Ben frowned, sitting up more, taking a look at her face. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even. She’d fallen fast asleep. He’d sworn that she’d just been awake. They’d only been talking a minute or two ago. Rey could fall asleep like a champion, but she must have really been exhausted to pass out so quickly.

Shaking off his momentary suspicion, Ben reached over, brushing her hair away from her face where it stuck with sweat. Despite all of the space in his bed, he curled up behind her. His tucked his chin over the top of her head, stretching his arm across her, and soon drifted off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As soon as she was sure that he had fallen asleep, Rey opened her eyes.

She was wide awake. Furthermore, she might never sleep again. Not with the knowledge of what she had just done. She’d _broken the rules_.

Rey didn’t say it. Their pact, the one they spoke aloud like a mantra every time they were together. She didn’t say it because she no longer meant it.

And she didn’t care to analyze what that meant or to stop to realize what it would do in the very near future. She only wished to prolong this night as long as possible, which meant continuing to pretend sleep, and not actually falling asleep. Because she’d learned that Ben Solo was at his sweetest and most affectionate only when he thought she was asleep.

And she was electrified and paralyzed with the sensation of a certain other kind of falling. Swift and uncontrolled as a train derailing, she couldn’t stop it if she wanted to. She didn’t want to. She wanted to give in.

So she turned over and greedily burrowed closer to his heat, kept her eyes shut when his arm instinctively tightened around her. _‘I’m here.’_

Breathed him in. Breathed him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I worked really hard to finish it and make it great. I wasn't sure if that, uh, certain scene, was too salacious for an M rating? It got me thinking that maybe I should try my hand at an E rated oneshot one of these days, just to try. Not sure if I'd be great at it, though. Heh. Anyway, I had to let them have a little fun. Since I'm about to destroy them.
> 
> Before I forget: happy (belated) Brooklyn Baby 1 year anniversary!!!
> 
> Wow. I really can't believe that it's been a year since I first started posting this story. It's grown so much since then, and even now the support that you guys have given me for this weird little story of mine is overwhelming. Thank you so much, guys. I appreciate you so, so much. You have no IDEA how much.
> 
> Needless to say, the 1 yr anniversary of this story aligning with SWCC had me feeling extra motivated to begin with. But when the IX trailer dropped yesterday, it gave me an extra crazy boost to finish! Full disclosure: I cried. And I'm still crying. 2019 is our year, Reylos!!
> 
> Special thanks to the ladies over at the Girls With Sabers youtube channel for all of the amazing content they provide this fandom. Their theories and metas are out of this world, I've learned so much from them. And their in-depth character studies for both Rey and Kylo have helped me so much with the development of my own versions of them. Check them out if you haven't yet!
> 
> See you next update!


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